Eddy Tsar's Five Weeks of Hell
by Samuel Keller
Summary: Sweeney City is the largest privately owned prison, built right over a Vault. The owner, Eddy Tsar, has agreed to give away the treasures inside for a measly five week stay at his prison. But there are more than just murderers and thieves in Sweeney City, and the Universal Government will do anything to stop the escape of the most dangerous inmates. Now with more plot!
1. Chapter 1: Five Weeks at Eddy's

Eddy lit a cigarette calmly, watching the footage below him casually. It was another prison riot, this time caused by Level 1 through 3 prisoners. Most of them were fairly strong and able to kill a good majority of guards, but not that strong. It lasted barely an hour before one elite guard completely obliterated them all, reducing the total population by 75%.

"How dull," he grunted taking another hit. "Honestly, can't something interesting happen?"

He regretfully looked at the footage of the Vault Hunters fighting on Eden-66 and Sheol, noting the bloodshed and destruction being given.

"If only I had something like that," he murmured. "But there's nothing interesting on this damn planet for anyone to do. I have a Vault, but what sort of event could I…?"

He paused, beginning to get an idea. He glanced at the hyper-violent prison population, people who would kill for a cigarette or a scrap of food. He looked at the Vault Hunters, men and women who loved loot above all reason.

"…I think I got an idea," he whispered smirking. "When I'm done, I'll have less prisoners and tons of footage. A win-win, if it works."

He pushed an intercom button, alerting his prisoners. "Attention maggots, this is your Tsar speaking. I will be hosting a little…party here. The details are still a bit hazy right now, but it'll involve all your participation. If you participate, I will increase your food supply by double and give you public access to those luxuries you so love, like cigarettes and Jananice pornography."

He took his hand off the button, grinning. "Well, I bet that got their attention. Of course I won't actually double their food. I'll just kill half of them in the first round, so technically I would've increased it. I never said how I'd do it after all."

He whirled to another monitor, typing a command into it. He stood straight, the camera at the top activating.

"Okay Mr. Vladof, I want you to record this and spread it across the ECHOnet. Believe me, everyone is going to want to hear this."

He then cleared his throat, now directly speaking into the ECHOnet. "What up fuckers? It's me, Eddy Tsar, your favorite source of violence and gore films this side of the ECHOnet. As many of you know, I run this shithole prison known as Sweeney City, the galaxy's largest privately owned prison. Built right over a Vault and all. Well, I got a proposition for getting that Vault."

He grinned widely, flashing his famous psycho grin. "If you survive five weeks in my prison, I'll give you the Vault. You heard right, only a measly five weeks. Of course, my guys are going to try and kill you as best they can, but this is a job for the true badasses of the galaxy anyway, not for pussies. Show up in the next two weeks and sign up. Like, subscribe, go fuck yourself. K bye."

He hung up then, lying back in his padded chair comfortably. Now he just had to wait for the flood of bloodthirsty mercenaries to show up…

* * *

Alan Fitzgerald struck the cue ball with his pool stick, sending it flying across the table. It nearly nicked the 4 ball before dodging it completely, bouncing across the far side of the table.

"Son of a cock-sucking rim-job slut!" snapped the priest throwing his pool stick into a wall, impaling it like a spear into it.

Lupus, who had nearly been struck with the pool stick, simply turned the page on the book he was reading. "You really need some anger management therapy."

"You really need to go to Hell ya damn heathen! This game is fucking rigged!"

"Ha, ha, and you know what happens if I win, _sweetheart_," said Mortem dangerously. "We get back together again if I win."

Alan collapsed to his knees, staring up at the ceiling. He ripped off his cross, clutching it in shaking hands.

"Lord, I know I'm a bit of an asshole," he prayed desperately. "But I really need a favor. If Mortem loses this game, I'll…uh…stop drinking."

She stopped, raising an eyebrow. "Damn. You really don't want to date me?"

"Your first hint was?"

She grinned widely. "Too bad. You're the only one here even willing to touch me in this disgustingly young body. You damn pedo."

"I am NOT A PEDOPHILE! For fuck's sake, I'm a holy paladin of God!"

"Sure don't act like it," grunted Lupus.

"You shut it heathen!"

Mortem aimed her shot carefully, aimed right at the 8 ball for the final point. "Better get in bed right now Alan. We got a long steamy night ahead of us."

"Lord, I will settle on having you strike me with holy lightning and killing me," prayed Alan. "In fact, I want that instead."

Then he kicked the table, lousing up her shot and causing her to stumble. This stumble translated into the cue ball widely missing the 8 ball.

"Hey that's cheating!" she yelled loudly.

"The damn ship moved woman!" snapped Alan.

"It didn't," murmured Lupus.

"Nobody likes you Lupus! Even the fans don't like you!"

Mortem broke her pool stick in half, raising the jagged end. "I think it's about time you got penetrated for once."

"Wait, what about that one time?" protested Alan.

"Oh yeah, that time…you liked it right?"

"Against my better judgment, yes. It was amazing."

The intercom blasted on, alerting them to an announcement.

"All Vault Hunters assemble in the meeting room. That means you two Baldemar and Gaige!"

"Huh, wonder what we're talking about," murmured Alan.

"Probably another bullshit DLC story," noted Lupus.

"Naw, that's crazy talk!" exclaimed Mortem.

* * *

Lilith stood at the podium, Baskerville and Wolfenstein beside her. The newest generation noted that every generation was in the room, some of them looking rather displeased about being disturbed.

"I could be riding a joy-stick right now," warned Gaige hostilely.

"I could be shooting something right now," spoke Salvador.

"I could be not giving a fuck right now," grunted Axton.

"Alright, shut up," ordered Lilith. "It has come to my attention that…well…you know what, Suture? Come and explain this."

The Blood Titan stepped up, walking over to the New-U Station in the corner. He tapped it, turning it on.

"I was doing some tests today on this machine," he spoke analytically.

"Yawn," grunted Alan. "Get on with it Doc."

Suture scowled, pressing a button. The New-U Station beeped several times before glowing, a small object digistructing in front of it.

"…a chicken?" inquired Taika.

Indeed it was. A small fowl was standing alongside Suture, looking around curiously at its new surroundings.

"And this chicken is important because…?" asked Baldemar.

Suture kicked the chicken gently. It instantly collapsed, twitching dead.

Then it exploded into green gas, emitting an aura of death and decay from within.

"Oh God, what the fuck happened?!" roared Dion.

"It smells icky in here!" complained Aurai.

"What happened to the thing?" demanded Salvador.

"Necrosis!" exclaimed Suture completely excited, as expected from a mad scientist. "Do you know what that means gentlemen?"

Bartholomew grabbed Simo, shaking him furiously. "We can't resurrect chickens anymore!"

Suture chuckled. "No Bart. You can resurrect as many chickens as you want. The problem is…we are most likely developing similar symptoms. So…we're all dead."

"Can't we revive?" asked Wolfenstein logically.

"No. This permanently kills you. It's space necrosis. Oh, and the two Grave Knights are affected too. It speeds up the necrosis you two already have in your bodies."

"That sounds like a plot coupon," murmured Lupus.

"Nobody cares Lupus!" roared Alan.

"How long do we have to live?" inquired Axton.

Suture paused for thought. "Well we've each used a New-U Station at least ten times…we're not chickens…a week. We have a week to live."

They all paused, the weight of mortality fully sinking in.

Gaige grabbed Baldemar, marching him out of the room. "We got loads of sex to do, right now!"

"Likewise," spoke Maya, grabbing Krieg and hauling him off.

"Well looks like I just ran out of options," said Alan. "Mortem?"

"Oh God why are you still wearing pants?" muttered the Grave Knight sprinting off with him.

Lilith sighed. "Typical. Unfortunately, I totally agree with them. Baskerville?"

The wereskag grabbed her, heroically posing as best he could. "To the bedroom! Yah!"

"Cause that'll solve all our problems, sex," grunted Lupus.

"You really are commenting a lot today," noted Taika.

"I barely spoke in the last two DLCs. It's my time."

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Wait, they aren't really going to die are they?"**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Fuck if I know. It could turn out anyway, giving this story."**


	2. Chapter 2: Live Like You're Dying

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "So do you think we lost any of our audience's respect for this sex jokes earlier?"**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Dude, this same audience has been through the following: Brick dying, Jack and Jane, Masher and the damn church scene, all the stupid shit Dion has done, Mortem and Wolfenstein's fight, Mortem in general, and Cassius's bullshit. If they stuck around through all that, we could fucking kill every character and they'd be cool with it."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "As long as we don't kill Saprus or Wolfenstein?"**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Bingo. Besides, we're doing the fanfiction community a favor."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "How?"**

**[Richard McGuiness] "We're showing writers that it's okay to say women like sex just as much as men do, cause it's true. Most guys try to shy away from the idea, thinking it makes them look slutty, but it doesn't. It's perfectly fucking natural, and we should portray it as such. We have a responsibility as writers to show this to the people."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Wow…that was…beautiful Rich."**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Thank you. Now pass the damn backscratcher. That area between my ass and scrotum itches."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Aaaaaand it's gone."**

* * *

Lupus dropped the bucket in the center of the table. "Gentlemen, this…is a bucket."

"Dear God," whispered Aurai crouched in fear.

"There's more."

"No…"

Lupus continued. "I have assembled a bucket of dreams you all want to fulfill before you die. Barring the people currently engaging in intercourse in various other rooms, I managed to get all of your dreams."

He reached inside, pulling one out at random. "And first is…Wolfenstein. He wants to…finish MLP."

"It is a daunting task," spoke the wereskag blandly.

"Okay, I guess we can order some food to let you marathon the damn thing in a few days. Any food in particular?"

"Meat. Raw."

"Well that settles that one. Now onto…Axton."

He glanced at the card, raising an eyebrow. "Axton, smoking isn't a dream."

"Sure is to me," grunted the commando.

"Okay, I am now ignoring you. Oh, this one's Suture."

Lupus nearly puked. "By God…Suture, I can't even read this one aloud."

"I understand completely," spoke the doctor professionally.

"Okay…let's hope this one is good…oh! Ningyo, you want to kiss the most beautiful girl in the world?"

"It's been my life's dream," spoke the ninja grinning.

"Perfect! Anyone in particular?"

"Yeah. We can go whenever to the planet."

Lupus grinned. "Excellent, we're getting something accomplished. Now let's see…Zero? Well you want to fight a worthy opponent. Let's be honest Zero, we haven't found one yet, and it's unlikely we ever will."

"I began to guess/No such opponent exists/But I still have hope," said Zero in haiku, like usual.

"Well we'll try to find someone. Now for the rest of them…"

* * *

Wolfenstein lay against the pillows, his eyes dark from exhaustion. "Must…sleep…"

"One more episode!" cheered Aurai, cramming a slab of steak into his mouth. "Come on grandpa! You can do it!"

"You got this man!" yelled Dion forcing him to drink the tenth Red Bull that day. "You've been at it for two days! You can finish it now, once and for all!"

Wolfenstein nodded, bracing himself against the wall. "Play it. My body is ready."

"Okay, final episode of the final season of MLP," spoke Dion. "Begin!"

* * *

Suture sipped his wine calmly, noting its pleasant sharp taste. "Excellent choice for the evening Ms. Katelyn."

"Thank you Doctor," she said biting into the chicken. "I must say, you make a delicious meal."

"I try my hardest. I know many skills besides medicine and science."

"Of course. It is only expected. How many PhD's do you have anyway?"

"11."

"Wow. Care to list them?"

He paused for thought. "…no. Want to talk about you instead?"

"Like what?"

"Perhaps your necklace. Jade?"

"Oh yes, I found it the other day…"

* * *

Axton and Lupus lay against the couches in the lounge, smoking their heads off. A variety of harder drugs were around them, which was to be expected considering their imminent demise.

Lupus huffed, the shot of cocaine through his nose hitting him like a truck. "Goddamn that's good. I'm so glad we're dying, or I'd never do this shit again."

"Bro, feel ya," stated Axton, who still had specks of white powder on his nose.

"Now shall we try crack?"

"Dear God give me that lighter. Wow…that's an instant feeling of euphoria."

"No shit. It's crack."

* * *

"This is one weird desire they both had," grunted Taika ripping open a plastic bag.

"Hey, I think it's cool," commented Not-So-Tiny Tina. "Personally, I'm diving in along with them."

They opened the last bag and deposited it on the floor, finishing their task.

"Hey Dion, Aurai!" yelled Paula. "Got something cool for you!"

Dion opened the door, noticing the large colorful pit just in front of the door.

"No fucking way!" he shouted excitedly, noticing the huge ball pit the two girls had made from one of the lounges. It was similar to those things you'd find at Chuck E. Cheese's, minus the E. coli.

"Yahoo!" exclaimed Aurai diving straight in, the pit being almost waist deep in all areas.

"Fwoosh!" yelled Dion, rolling around like a little kid.

"Cannonball!" cried Tina jumping off the couch, landing on her back and sinking into the colorful depths.

Taika chuckled, then shrugged. "Ah fuck it. I'm going to die anyway. Adult swim!"

She dove in as well, laughing loudly with little care in the world. It's amazing how relaxing it is to know you're going to die.

* * *

Mordecai was sipping his tea calmly, seated by the fire along with Sir Hammerlock.

"So how's the newest El Cazador?" inquired the elder of the two. In case you were wondering, that's technically Hammerlock.

"She's pretty good," spoke Mordecai, his bird Nightrazor seated comfortably on the arm of his chair. "Apparently she helped with the takedown of Grave Lord Cassius's rebellion. So…not bad."

"Didn't you destroy Grave Lord Tsarun, the past one who tried to do that?"

"Oh yeah…that was fun."

Hammerlock paused. "Wait, didn't the others give a message about necrosis or something similar to that?"

"Oh I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. They had a similar message about syphilis, and I'm still alive."

"You have syphilis?"

"…no."

"…I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you."

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "I had syphilis once. It hurt like hell until I replaced it with."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "How?"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "I ripped it off a Dhai woman. Works good as new, except for the fact it's a different skin color and it's bigger."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Ha! A woman had a bigger dick than you had!"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Oh yeah, check it out."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "…damn it, it's bigger than mine."**

* * *

"And why did you bring me?" inquired Simo, adjusting his red coat calmly. "Not that I mind. I like Eden-9."

"I needed an escort to stop the police officers," explained Ningyo. "I'm still notorious unlike the rest of you somehow are."

"Oh, no problem then. By the way, this whole 'kiss the most beautiful girl' thing…uh…you aren't some stalker are you?"

The trickster chuckled. "No. You don't understand what I meant by that. Well, you will in a second."

Ningyo rang the doorbell, waiting patiently at the door. In a few seconds, it was answered.

A young Jananice woman answered the door, immediately recoiling at Ningyo's presence.

"Hello honey," spoke the trickster smiling pleasantly. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

The woman smacked Ningyo, which barely affected him due to the cybernetic nature of half his body.

"You shouldn't have come," snapped the woman. "She's working on her homework."

"I long stopped considering your opinions," replied Ningyo lightly pushing her aside. "I'm here to see her, damn your thoughts."

"I'll call the police on you!" warned the woman.

"Go ahead. I long stopped caring about the police either."

He walked through the building, the house layout exactly the same as he had remembered it. He reached a central room, slowly opening the door to peer inside.

A young girl, maybe 12, looked up from her desk. She grinned widely, dropping her pencil and standing.

"Dad!" shouted the girl, running over to hug him tightly. She had grown a lot in two years, but was still the daughter he remembered. "Mom said you still had 8 years left!"

"Technically I only had 4," argued Ningyo. "But your mother is prone to exaggeration, isn't she? Unfortunately, I'm a little busy, so I've only had enough time to just say hello."

"It's still really nice to see you dad! I'm doing great in school!"

"Oh really? You still want to be a princess?"

The girl giggled. "No dad! That was when I was a child! Now I want to be a nurse like mom!"

Ningyo smiled gently. "A noble pursuit, I have no doubt you'll succeed in it."

He looked at his deathwatch, the little meter on it indicating the total hours he had left. "I have to go Ayame. It was nice seeing you again."

He kissed her on the forehead, closing his eyes peacefully. "Goodbye my daughter."

Ningyo walked out of the house, a smile on his face.

"Oh now I get it," murmured Simo.

* * *

Taika walked into the room calmly, stepping over the unconscious body of Simo, who had taken enough alcohol to kill several elephants into his body. So basically his lifetime goal was completely accomplished.

"Lupus? Are you still conscious?"

"I'M FLYING!" yelled Lupus from the ceiling. Apparently he had been taped to the ceiling with liberal amounts of duct tape. Exactly how was a mystery.

"Uh…why?" asked Taika raising an eyebrow.

"He took a liter of LSD," explained Axton, who was still affected by the massive amounts of cocaine he had taken earlier.

"A liter? Literally?"

"Liter-ally," spoke Axton grinning. "That was a pun."

"I got that. Listen I needed to talk to at least one of you about something."

Axton raised an eyebrow. "I'm probably not the best option at the moment. I'm super high right now, and Lupus is…high in the vertical sense."

"Axton!" screamed Lupus. "I can't feel my feet!"

"You still have feet Lupus! Don't worry!"

"Bitch don't tell me what to do!"

Axton rolled his eyes. "See? We're definitely not the best to talk to."

"Actually, you're perfect," spoke Taika. "If you tell a soul what I am about to ask you, I will hurt you in ways you do not even know."

"I swear it on my sobriety."

She sighed. "Whatever. Listen, we got two days left, and I…I…"

"Want to ask out Saprus?" inquired the commando.

"…how did you?"

"Dion told me."

"That broccoli-haired motherfucker!"

Axton smirked. "So he wasn't bullshitting me. So you want to ask out Saprus?"

"Yes."

"Excuse my tact, but you're a woman. If you want a date, you put on a skimpy dress and ask for a drink."

"That's for a date with boys," argued Taika. "Saprus is a gentleman. Gentlemen have class, and I…don't know how to catch them."

"Have you considered a fishing pole?"

"What?"

"Nothing. But listen, it's really simple. But you must listen closely."

Taika leaned in. "Okay."

"Closer."

"Okay then."

Closer."

"Uh…okay."

Axton then grabbed her by the collar, shaking her violently. "Whip your damn lady-balls out and ask him out! For the love of God, it's not that hard!"

"Why is everyone yelling!?" screamed Lupus.

Taika paused, slightly taken aback. "Seriously? Just ask him out?"

"Eh, what do you have to lose? You're going to die in two days. Any foreseeable consequences would likely not last into the afterlife."

"Huh…you have a very…interesting outlook on this. I think I'll give it a try."

"Excellent. Now…how am I going to get Lupus down?"

"AXTON!" shouted Lupus. "MY GREEN IS TOUCHING HIS PURPLE!"

"What is he talking about?" inquired Taika.

"Don't think about it," advised Axton.

**[Richard McGuinness] "Oh shit, we're ending at THAT?"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Yep."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "The fans are gonna be pissed!"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "I know! Grab the popcorn!"**

**[Samuel Keller] "I want to see this too. I brought nachos."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Fuck yeah! Let's do this!"**


	3. Chapter 3: Phil

Doctor Suture examined the chicken corpse analytically, currently chomping on a chocolate contently.

Not-So-Tiny Tina popped in, her lab coat still not functioning well enough to hide her ample bosom. "Have you noticed anything doctor?"

"…this chicken is dead."

Tina threw herself backwards in shock, covering her face. "Oh the chickenity!"

"Chickenity?" inquired Katelyn, the woman who was supposed to be taking the minutes of the operation.

"Yeah, like humanity but chickenity."

"Duly noted. C-H-I-K-E…"

"This is odd though," murmured Suture. "This necrosis is unlike any I've ever seen before. It's almost like…"

He rapidly ran over to the New-U Station, flipping the switch like a dramatic Frankenstein. It arced and sparked, both of which rhymed, and shot a bolt of lightning at the chicken. It disintegrated into data before reforming itself again, still as dead as before.

Then the chicken's eyes opened, exposing bright red pupils that glowed in the dark. It stood up, fluffing its feathers despite the lack of most internal organs.

"It's adorable!" yelled Tina pressing closer, peering over the edge of the table like an eager child.

The chicken leaped at her, immediately targeting her breasts and crawling inside her lab coat.

"Ah! It's like a college frat boy!" she screamed, trying to rip it off her.

"Damn perverted zombie chickens," murmured Suture. He grabbed a small plastic jar nearby and took off the lid, biting down hard on his open thumb. A blood tentacle spewed from it, arcing over the chicken and plucking it from the ample home it had found in Tina's chest.

"Thank God!" exclaimed the explosives expert wiping the feathers from her outfit. "Uh…actually that didn't feel too bad now that I think it over. Can we try that again?"

"No!" snapped Suture slamming the chicken into the jar and screwing it shut. "This little guy just proved something!"

"And that is?"

"It isn't necrosis! It's just a zombification virus! And if that's the case, it likely does not affect any other species besides chicken!"

Tina scratched her chin. "But why? Can't zombification spread to other species?"

"Oh please, that's not how it works," said Suture confidently. "Besides, if that was the case, the others would be eating a lot of raw meat and yogurt right about now if they really were infected with Zombitus."

Tina nodded. "Okay! Uh…shouldn't we do something crazy to please the audience right about now?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about," spoke the doctor. "Everything we do is pure science. There is nothing crazy about that."

Katelyn stifled a chuckle, trying her hardest not to let it become much louder.

Suture grabbed the phone on the wall. "We need to call Lilith. This is important."

* * *

"There better be a damn good reason you called us," snapped Lilith, who hadn't even bothered to brush her hair from the…activity she had been undertaking. "The last six days have been great without any interruptions."

"It's not necrosis!" yelled Suture holding up the zombie chicken. "It's actually an advanced state of Chicken Zombitus! It only affects chickens!"

Mortem's jaw dropped. "…seriously? We're not dying? It was that simple?"

"By the way, where's Alan?" asked Lupus. "He still owes me twenty bucks."

"He's a little…tied up…because I tied him up."

"I assumed that."

Lilith grinned widely. "Awesome, we're not dying."

"We are not dying!" exclaimed Bartholomew victoriously posing on his chair like Captain Morgan. "We are going to live forever!"

"I didn't say that," argued Suture. "I just said we don't have necrosis."

The Siren scratched her chin for thought. "Well shit, that means I actually have to pay back that loan I made. Uh…damn. Also, we need to find something to do now."

"Agreed," spoke Wolfenstein. "Perhaps there is some trouble that needs to be resolved somewhere?"

Lilith shrugged. "I'll start looking. Until then…uh…as you were."

"Yay!" exclaimed Mortem running back her bedroom.

"Well that's nice we aren't dying," noted Lupus. "Still, I think I'm addicted to crack again."

"I think so as well," grunted Axton.

Taika and Saprus entered the room, both of them wearing small smiles on their faces.

"Oh look who's back from their date," said Dion. "Guess what? We aren't dying."

"Hmm, excellent," stated the old man grinning.

"Great to hear," agreed the huntress.

"So…" began Paula, "how'd the date go?"

Saprus and Taika both laughed, dodging the question nimbly.

"Well…" began the huntress.

"It went," added the old man. "How does next week, same time sound Taika?"

"Perfect."

"That's not an answer!" screamed Gaige. "Give us an answer! Did you kiss? Did you use tongue?! There are details we need to know!"

"Our private affairs are none of your business," argued Saprus. "Good night Taika."

"Good night to you as well Saprus."

"They aren't even using pet names!" yelled the artist. "I can't tell if it went well or not!"

Gaige slammed her fist through the arm of her chair, extremely irritated. "They planned a second date, but I still can't tell! Damn it all!"

"Why do you care?" asked Lupus.

"I'm Shipper on Deck damn it!" argued Paula. "It's my job!"

"And I'm bored with shitty romance novels!" chimed Gaige.

The guitarist shrugged. "Eh, whatever. Who am I to judge?"

* * *

The chicken was named Phil. It knew this from the thoughts it had going through its undead brain, each one tagged with the name Phil.

"Phil is a good chicken," he thought, strutting across the barren fields. "Phil knows exactly where he is going."

In truth Phil did not know where he was going. He did not know the field he was in, the planet he was on, or even the galaxy he was in. He just knew where to go from his brain telling him to do so, as surely as he knew how to walk or eat.

"Phil wants corn," he thought. He looked around, noticing there was no corn. "Phil does not want corn now."

He finally reached a rock, climbing onto it with remarkable ease. He got to the top, looking in front of him in confusion.

Stretched out before Phil were miles of other zombie chickens like himself, numbering at least in the millions. They were all cawing and pecking at the ground or each other, seemingly curious about their undead brothers' and sisters' presence here. They had been brought from all corners of the galaxy, drawn from the glass mothers that had given birth to them so long ago.

Phil cawed once and the entire assembly silenced, staring at him expectantly. Each one of them had the same red eyes, the same ruffled white feathers, and that same hunger.

The hunger for world domination. All zombie chickens had it, and they could not ignore it.

Phil suddenly realized why he was here. He did not know where he was or even what he was, but he knew why he was, and that was the most important thing in the universe.

"Phil is leader," he thought astonished.

He turned, cawing once. Every chicken in the assembly instantly knew what he meant.

"Follow Phil," each one thought, marching behind him. The sound was deafening as millions of claws hit the soil and billions of feathers were ruffled in their walk. In barely an hour, only one chicken remained.

"Who the hell is Phil?" thought the lone chicken, before shrugging and going to join his friends due to intense peer pressure.

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "…that was just a disposable joke right? They really aren't going to fight undead chickens are we?"**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Bro, I don't even know when the jokes are jokes or serious in this damn story. That would not be the weirdest thing that happened in this story."**


	4. Chapter 4: Sweet Transvestite

Doctor Suture sat in the lobby in Sweeney City, having been sent as the official leader of this Vault Hunter squad. Which was pretty sad that he was the sanest person on the entire team. Very sad indeed.

"Oh my God there are so many hot dudes here!" exclaimed Mortem absolutely overjoyed, hopping around the crowds of other participants. "I can get at least four to join me and Alan, and five more for every girl I invite! This'll be wicked!"

"Excellent, plenty of drug dealers and rapists. It's like a second home," murmured Lupus Cithara. He was the second-in-command, having been demoted from leader ever since his duct tape incident. Still, he was still the official team snarker, and no one denied him that position.

"Hey, we're actually going to get our mission done, right?" proposed Simo Hathcock weakly, chuckling lowly. He was sent along to make sure the others didn't kill each other, a position that was actually fairly difficult.

"Of course not!" snapped Mortem. "We're gonna get laid bitches!"

"You literally got laid yesterday," noted Lupus. "And this morning. And the pod on the way here. And five minutes ago in the restroom with that brunette man."

"Hey, he had green eyes," murmured the Grave Knight twirling her hair. "I'm a sucker for that."

"You're a sucker for anything with functioning genitals and a heartbeat…actually, I retract the latter."

Mortem pouted, crossing her arms over her tiny chest. "Hey, a girl lowers her standards when she has a chest and a booty that you could iron shirts on. And being so short that people can use you as an armrest. And basically when she's trapped in a child's body despite being centuries old."

"Sounds suckish. I might write a song about it."

"Bullshit! You haven't written shit since we met you! Hell, you haven't even posted it into any of our chapters!"

Lupus rolled his eyes. "Bitch, I write heavy metal. Lots of people read our fanfics. Lots of people don't like heavy metal. The two do not combine. Or, at least they shouldn't. Not after those Call of Duty ones…"

**[Richard McGuinness] "Okay, we are done talking about that!"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Why does Sam hate those so much? They're alright!"**

**[Richard McGuinness] "That's the point! They're just alright! He likes shooting for bigger and better shit! He's a perfectionist queer!"**

"Hey, Simo! What up man?!" roared a voice.

"Oh dear," murmured the sniper a moment before he was wrapped into a massive hug.

"Great to see ya buddy!" yelled Edward the Kidd, grinning widely. He was carrying a huge assault rifle on his back, strapped to the same place as his black and white cloak. He still looked like Elvis, and it was even more obvious with his star sunglasses.

**Edward the Kidd "Grey Dog Killer": Great to be the King (Bounty: $999,999,999,999,999)**

"Same to you old friend," said Simo, who was slowly getting crushed by the hug. "You're…also…shattering…my…spine…"

"Oh, right! Sorry bro!"

Edward let him go, chuckling nervously. "So…how's Dion doing?"

"Still training," replied Suture. "He's getting better."

"Good. That little shit has big fucking shoes to fill. More specifically mine, but still."

"Oh, you're hot," spoke Mortem immediately, flirting with him. "You wanna go to that restroom and make it a little dirtier?"

"Uh, I don't date children," he spoke calmly.

"You little shit!" snapped the Grave Knight. "I'm over 300 years old! I've fucked more people than you've ever met!"

"That statement is accurate," spoke Lupus.

"Huh, another Grave Knight?" inquired Edward. "You all keep weird company."

"Sir, Ms. Hemera is arriving," spoke Vladimir Lawless, his iron mask and sword still intact.

**Vladimir Lawless "Wicked Cain": The Silent Blade (Bounty: $354,000,000,000,000)**

"Ugh, that bitch," grunted the Metal Titan. "Goddamn it, why did I get stuck with her?!"

"I can hear you, you idiot," spoke a voice behind him.

He whirled around, aiming his arm cannon at the person's head.

"Damn it Hem!" he snapped. "You're too damn fast!"

"Of course I am," spoke the woman, walking around his massive body. She was a golden woman, literally being covered in golden clothing and with golden features. She seemed to glow even, her skin milky white to contrast her yellow tattoos.

**Hemera "Supernova": The Siren of Light (Bounty: $600,000,000,000,000)**

She popped a piece of bubblegum into her mouth, chewing it as she studied the Vault Hunters. "So these are your friends Ed? They don't look like much. Especially the thin one with the red coat."

Simo blushed, pushing his fingers together nervously. "Oh, hi Hemera. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Not long enough I have to say," murmured Hemera. "You're still as disappointing as ever."

Mortem stepped forward, a bit of her façade falling to reveal the rotting flesh underneath. "Hey bitch, back the fuck up. I will mess you up for insulting my friends."

"You back up," snapped Hemera. "He's been my friend longer."

"Hey, let's not start a fight here over me," spoke Simo slipping in-between them. "I wasn't offended by any of it."

"You shut it," ordered Mortem. "I'm fighting for you damn it."

"I don't fight children," scoffed Hemera.

"Okay, that's it!" roared the Grave Knight lunging at her. Only a quick grab by Suture and Lupus kept her from tearing the Siren's throat out. "I don't care how much of a Siren you are, I will kill your ass!"

"I would love to see such a thing," murmured Hemera.

Edward smirked, amused by all of this. "Hey, let's just try to be civil, okay?"

"Odd how you of all people proposed that," commented Vladimir.

"Hey, first time for everything. But seriously, there's no fighting allowed here. We'd get expelled from the competition."

Mortem calmed down, adjusting her shirt, which she noted was more than large enough to cover her nonexistent bosom. "Listen up you lightbulb-sucking bitch. I don't care what you say to Simo, or me, or anyone in general. But you ever comment how I'm a kid again, despite the fact I am definitely not, and I will make you just like me."

"A little whiny bitch?" proposed Hemera.

"No. Immortal. And believe me, after the first two centuries, it really starts to suck."

Before any more threats could be exchanged, a door at the far side of the room opened. A large man entered, his shirt barely able to cover his massive belly. The man had permanent Doritos stains on his fingers and lips, and he smelled worse than half of the people in the room.

"Sup? I'm Eddy Tsar," he said simply, almost arrogantly.

"That fat tub of lard owns the largest private prison in the world?" inquired Hemera skeptically.

"Nepotism really is floundering this year," murmured Lupus.

Eddy burped loudly. "Alright, so listen. There are four Wards, and each one has their own roster of people. You all are Group C, which means that you'll be taken into Ward C. Does that mean only one Ward can win? Hell no, it's just likely. Believe me, I got people in this hellhole who'd populate your worst nightmares."

"I don't care," spat Edward coldly. "What are you telling us?"

"What I'm telling you, hombre, is that you all will have one gang in each Ward to support your living conditions. Since I can't expect you to just scrounge up some box in the middle of my city, I decided the best idea was to have a gang house you."

"We're supposed to trust them?" asked Lupus.

"Bitch you came here to live in a prison for five weeks. If you wanted to be logical, you'd step right onto that teleporter and go home."

Eddy smirked. "Oh, and the gang we selected for you…well…they have a show in mind."

Suddenly members of the crowd collapsed, hitting the floor melodramatically. Each one was wearing some kind of odd makeup of the opposite gender, making them appear like members of an odd party.

The teleporter flashed, a single figure stepping out of it. It appeared to be a man, though it was hard to tell considering his androgynous appearance and clothing. He had large high heels and long white hair, going down to his ankles. His makeup was professionally done, making him appear like a female Kiss member with far more class.

All the members of the crowd previously stood up, playing music from various electronics in their pockets. It was a swinging tune similar to glam rock, and that was the closest thing that it could be compared to.

The androgynous man smiled, and began to sing.

_How do you do?_

_I see you've met my faithful, handyman._

_He's just a little brought down, _

_Cause when you knocked, _

_He thought you were the candyman._

The man walked forward through the crowd, moving expertly with high heels. He had arms outstrechted dramatically, exposing that he was wearing a tight black corset and bikini, which he sported rather well all things considering.

_Don't get strung out, _

_By the way I look._

_Don't judge a book by its cover._

_I'm not much of a man, _

_By the light of day,_

_But by night I'm one Hell of a lover._

_I'm just a sweet transvestite,_

_From Transsexual, Transylvania._

Eddy Tsar grinned. "His name is Dr. Ivanlove, leader of the Fags."

"Fags?" questioned Mortem. "Isn't that term offensive to homosexuals?"

"Hey, he made the term up. I'm just referring to him by the words he requested."

Ivanlove grinned and petted Mortem on the head, gesturing the door.

_Let me, show you around._

_Maybe play you a sound._

_You look like you're all pretty groovy, _

_Or if you want something visual,_

_That's not too abysmal, _

_We could take in an old Steeve Reeves movie._

_You see girl, Fag isn't bad,_

_To-tal-ly wrong. _

_It totally kills your stress._

_While it is pretty bold,_

_I must say, truth be told,_

_It really is the damn best!_

_I'm just a sweet transvestite!_

_From Transsexual, Transylvania!_

Dr. Ivanlove threw open the door, his band of transvestites flooding to go through it. They made a hallway of their bodies, wildly waving their arms and various implements to create a huge spectacle on the other side.

_Why don't you stay for the night,_

_Or maybe a bite?_

_I could show you my favorite obsession._

_I've been making a man with blond hair and a tan,_

_And he's good for relieving me…tension._

_I'm just a sweet transvestite!_

_From Transsexual, Transylvania!_

_I'm just a sweet transvestite!_

_From Transsexual, Transylvania!_

He walked through the door, moving backwards with ease. He was being showered with roses and flowers as he walked, grinning widely.

_So come up to the lab, and see what's on the slab._

_I see you shiver with antic….pation!_

_But maybe the rain isn't really to blame,_

_So I'll remove the cause but not the symptom._

He stopped, his crew of transvestites applauding at his performance. Dr. Ivanlove bowed, holding one of the roses he had caught in his teeth. He seemed to be genuinely happy, thrilled by the praise of his people.

"Well, you coming nitwits?" inquired Dr. Ivanlove looking over his shoulder. "We don't have long."

The crowd of mercenaries paused, not entirely sure what the hell had just happened or how to react. They simply stared in shock, their brains slowly processing it.

"He's hot!" yelled Mortem running into the hallway, the transvestites welcoming her with open arms.

**[Richard McGuinness] "I'm…not sure what I just saw."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Art. You just saw pure fucking art Rich. Savor it."**


	5. Chapter 5: Crackhead

Dr. Ivanlove walked through Ward C calmly, the group of participants nervously following him through his headquarters. Every occupant seemed to be a transvestite, most of them very professional in appearance and demeanor. They all bowed to Dr. Ivanlove as he passed, clearly respecting him highly.

"We Fags are more than willing to accompany you for the duration of these five weeks," explained the doctor waving his hands. "Since we're the only people you have, we're family here. And as such, we have a few rules."

He turned sharply, holding up a manicured index finger. "Rule number one: You will call me Dr. Ivanlove, and nothing else. Not Doc, not Doctor, not even Ivanlove. Dr. Ivanlove. Though I will accept Oh Captain My Captain."

**Dr. Ivanlove: Have A Gay Old Time (Sentenced For: Theft, Larceny)**

"Oh Captain My Captain!" yelled Mortem giggling. "That'd be awesome to shout mid-coitus…"

"Exactly the point. Try it with your lover some time. Rule number two: Any sex you have must be recorded and I must see the tape before another session happens. We make a lot of money off that stuff."

"That sounds reasonable," murmured Mortem. "I'm going to make you guys some bank then."

"Okay, Daddy is done hearing you talk," spoke Dr. Ivanlove waving his hand dismissively. "Rule number three: I make the rules. You have a problem with any of my group, you talk to me."

He smirked, pointing to his high heels. On closer inspection, they both had revolvers built in with a massive revolving chamber full of shotgun shells.

"Of course, I never said I'd actually let you talk," murmured Dr. Ivanlove. "Rule number four: You make your keep here. Because you're all targets, the other gangs are going to try and kill you. Your rent, nicely enough, is keeping our house from burning to the ground."

He grinned, bowing. "You do all this, and you may stay in our humble abode, as family."

Doctor Suture glanced at the rest of the Vault Hunters. "That seems reasonable."

"I can live with that," grunted Edward the Kidd. "Not sure I'll get used to the trannies running around here."

"Fags," corrected Dr. Ivanlove. "Mainly because The Trannies sounded like shit. 'Fags' has such a good ring to it, albeit slightly objectionable in connotation. And most of us aren't gay…Neal, any idea on a new name?"

A man, most likely named Neal, popped out of a room. "Uh…how does The Drags sound, Daddy?"

"Like shit. Keep working on it Neal."

"Yes Daddy!"

Lupus raised an eyebrow. "Daddy?"

"My lovers call me that," explained Dr. Ivanlove. "Or Mommy. It depends on my mood. I'm in a definite Daddy mood though, so behave yourself or I'll spank you."

"Would you be my Daddy?" asked Mortem shying closer to him.

He pushed her away gently. "Uh, no. Sorry, but even we prisoners have a sense of honor. No kids."

"I am not a kid!" roared the Grave Knight. "I…! You know what, whatever. I don't care anymore."

Dr. Ivanlove paused, an aide rapidly appearing. The aide was panicking, waving her leather gloved hands around her face.

"Dr. Ivanlove, we have a visitor!" exclaimed the aide, her hair cut extremely short to resemble a male's.

"Yes, about a hundred," stated Dr. Ivanlove calmly.

"No, another one! The front door! It's Crackhead!"

Dr. Ivanlove narrowed his eyes. "Duly noted. I will be right there."

He stormed through the building, most of the crowd following him to avoid the others in the building. The entire complex was immense, apparently having been made of scrap wood and metal.

They reached the front door, a group of Fags armed to the teeth and aiming at one person through the door. The man was immense, hovering above two meters in height and with massive proportions. He had large circles around his eyes and dilated pupils, seemingly panting just by standing there. The man was carrying a fire axe and sledgehammer taped together on his back, which he was fingering quietly.

The man pulled out a small piece of paper folded in half, full of a milky white powder. He snorted it rapidly, his eyes widening and his breathing rate increasing. He licked his lips, the drug hitting him extremely hard.

"Damn that's good shit," whispered Crackhead, grinning widely. "Makes me feel…potent."

**Crackhead: He likes Crack and Cracking Heads (Sentenced For: Drug Possession, Murder)**

"I told you to stay away from here," snapped Dr. Ivanlove aggressively, not even trying to pretend to be civil.

"Hey Doc, don't be a dick," protested the cocaine addict, gripping his sledgehammer axe. "I'm just here to see the new arrivals. After all, we got some visitors for the next few weeks right? I figured it'd be neighborly to see them."

"The only thing you're going to see if you hang out here is my heels in your brain," scoffed Dr. Ivanlove. "I don't fear you Junkies."

"And we don't fear you, Fags," spat Crackhead. "I hope you got some tough customers, because we're the first to march on you homos. I want to grind your bones into my next batch."

"Get lost Crackhead," ordered Dr. Ivanlove. "The game hasn't started yet."

"Yet," repeated the cocaine addict turning away. "But when it does Doc…I'm gonna kill you."

He walked away, whistling casually. The doctor slammed the door, greatly angered.

"Ignore him," spoke Dr. Ivanlove. "Each week in this prison, you'll be attacked by a different gang. For Ward C, the first gang is the Junkies. They were imprisoned mostly for drug-related offenses. Crackhead is one of the toughest sons of bitches on their side, so watch out."

"Interesting group dynamics," commented Suture. "I take it most gangs don't like the Fags."

"Well, we provide a few smuggled goods," argued Dr. Ivanlove. "Though they won't miss us if we're all wiped out. That's why we were chosen to house you for these five weeks. Oh, and there's another reason."

The doctor grinned widely, his eyes turning scarily murderous. "We're the only group who wouldn't murder you for no reason. At least, not without a decent reason. So sleep tight, and don't let the bed bugs bite."


	6. Chapter 6: Demon Ymir

Edward the Kidd threw himself onto the bunk bed, taking bottom bunk immediately. "Well these guys seem friendly. Queer, but friendly."

Vladimir Lawless got into the top bunk, staring to sharpen his sword absently. "I will take first watch."

"You guys are still suspicious?" inquired Simo, the Vault Hunters choosing to share a room with the Syndicate.

"Never can be too certain dumbass," snapped Hemera, who was polishing her gold boots. "Every person here is imprisoned for a good reason. And then there's the other contestants…No sane person would sign up for this."

"And that says a lot about us," murmured Lupus dryly.

"Just expect a shiv in the back at any time," said the Siren, ignoring the guitarist.

Mortem entered the room, grinning widely. "Guys! I found a guy! He's dark, mysterious, and he likes me!"

Doctor Suture looked up, before breaking into an uncharacteristic grin. "No way…Jackal Cash!"

He leaped off his bunk, running to his old comrade and hugging him tightly. "It's so great to see you again old friend!"

The gunslinger Jackal Cash patted him softly, a small smile on his face. In the months since their fight at the Carnival, he had lost weight and greyed significantly. However, he still had an aura of undeniable power that seemed to emit through the room.

**Jackal Cash "Demon Ymir": Still the Champ (Bounty: $777,000,000,000,000)**

"About time you caught up!" roared Hemera. "What took you so long?"

"Reminiscing," replied the gunslinger calmly.

"Wait, you're part of the Syndicate now?" asked Suture.

"Yes. I figured it was time to devote my life to a noble cause. I'm still difficult to kill, although I can die now. By the way, you do know the New-U Stations are disabled for this trip, right?"

"WHAT?!" screamed Mortem horrified. "That's awful! I can still get damaged to the point I stop regenerating! This sucks!"

"Even more reason to be cautious," murmured Hemera.

Jackal smirked, nuzzling the top of Mortem's head affectionately. "Do not worry. I am here. There is no greater security."

"Wow, humble much?" asked Edward. "Remember the last time we fought Cash?"

"That planet will never bear life again."

"Yeah, good riddance."

"So, Mortem?" questioned Lupus raising an eyebrow. "Really? You couldn't find any other female?"

Jackal actually blushed, scratching the back of his head. "I…uh…can sense her age, so I know she's not really a kid. And…uh…"

"He's a total lolicon," spoke Edward grinning. "He hates to admit it, but he is."

"The bathroom is currently unoccupied," spoke Lupus pointing. "If you bang in the middle of the night, I will kill both of you."

"Agreed," stated Vladimir Lawless.

Dr. Ivanlove poked his head through the door, grinning wide. "There are cameras in there! Just spoiling that for you!"

He left the room as quick as he had left, leaving the crew of 8 standing around awkwardly.

"So we going?" asked Mortem tugging Jackal's arm.

"Aren't you dating someone?" inquired the gunslinger. "I don't follow many honor codes, but…"

"It's an open relationship," replied the Grave Knight calmly. "I'm just using you to fulfill my sexual desires and nothing else. Alan is my real moral support."

"…I can deal with that. Let's go."

"Can you play that guitar long-hair?" asked Hemera. "I don't want to hear them."

"I had just the idea in mind," murmured Lupus stringing his guitar. "I think I'll do some Upon a Burning Body today. I'm definitely in the mood for them."

* * *

Dr. Ivanlove stood in the front of the mess hall of his HQ, all the contestants gathered there after breakfast. He was now dressed in pink and yellow, obviously in a 'Mommy' mood.

"Okay boys and girls, let me explain something to you," he said in a higher but still firm voice. "The first week of this competition, you'll be facing off against the Junkies. They're all in here for drug possession, drug running, or something similar. They're the least dangerous by default, but that doesn't mean certain members aren't major threats."

He clicked a remote, a large display showing up against the wall. It was a picture of Crackhead, grinning widely with cocaine stuck to his nostrils. "This is their primary bouncer, Crackhead. He's in here for three accounts of murder and possessing over fifty pounds of cocaine at the time of his arrest. Since he's been here, he's killed forty people."

He pressed the remote again, this time showing a nervous looking man wearing an overcoat. He was holding a syringe over his forearm, about to inject himself with the drug. "This is Twitch, the tactical brains of the organization. Meth addict, is extremely brilliant. Knows the whole prison inside and out. Busted for drug smuggling. Tried to hide it in bodies and disguised himself as a mortician."

"How did it fail?" asked Mortem curiously, adjusting her undergarments for the tenth time that day.

"The bodies were still alive. He's lacking in common sense."

He clicked the remote, exposing a woman with a wide grin and sleazy eyes. She had her head leaned back and her shoulders loose, making her appear extremely intimidating despite the expression on her face. She seemed to have smoke emitting around her, originating mostly from her mouth.

"This is Mary Jane," spoke Dr. Ivanlove. "Busted for conspiracy murder and drug distribution. Used to run a huge cartel, until they got caught when they tried to assassinate a public official. She's the Junkie leader, and not to be messed with."

"How scary can a pothead be?" questioned Edward arrogantly.

"Scary enough that even people tripping on LSD know to stay away from her," argued Dr. Ivanlove completely seriously. "Scary enough that even I'd be reluctant to fight her. Whatever you do, if you do fight her, kill yourself before she kills you. Otherwise…it won't be pretty."

He paused, remembering something. "Oh yeah, and we have another problem now."

He tapped his foot anxiously, actually appearing nervous. "It appears that the Universal Government has sent two agents into this facility to help…decrease the dangerous population here."

Edward the Kidd instantly stepped forward, snarling. "Which two agents?"

"Two of their Watchdogs. 'Demon of Song' Croix Sonore and 'Marshall' Wallace."

Edward gritted his teeth. "Damn it…those damn traitors…here."

"Whatever happens, do not encounter any of the Watchdogs," advised Dr. Ivanlove. "They won't hesitate to kill anyone in their way. They're actually worse than some of the prisoners here, believe me. I've met them before."

* * *

"Boom, boom, boom!" yelled Croix Sonore, jamming out to with his large headphones in place. He was dressed like a DJ, his pink hair in a massive ponytail above his head and his glasses shiny white. He was dancing with wild erratic motions, seemingly randomly to anyone not listening to his dubstep.

"This is good shit!" he shouted spinning, flaring out his arms in time with the beat drops.

"Croix!" exclaimed his partner, Wallace.

"What?!"

"You're walking on air again!"

Croix looked down, noticing that he was at least five feet off the ground. He was floating in the center of a massive pit in the prison, his partner on a bridge nearby.

"Eh, I've done weirder," said the DJ turning up the volume and continuing to dance.

**Croix Sonore "Demon of Song": Lord of Dance (Former Bounty: $757,000,000,000,000)**

Wallace rolled his eyes, carrying an absolutely humungous sword alongside him. The sword was grafted to his right arm, replacing his hand and most of his forearm. It was curved and jagged in seemingly random places, like he had yanked it from a junkyard. It was extremely heavy, and seemed more like a chunk of iron instead of an actual sword.

"We have to meet with this Junkie leader Marty Klane or whatever," spat the swordsman. "Our orders are to eliminate the Syndicate members here, as well as any Vault Hunters we come across."

"Or just anyone right?!" yelled Croix over his music. "I'm itching for a good fight!"

"Heh, we can agree on that. I want to collect some trophies here."

He flashed his left arm, showing that underneath the armor was a literal array of human ears, all of them left ears. Each one still had blood covered in it, some of them more damaged than others.

"Good thing I picked the ears," he commented. "Only part that's usually left after I'm done. Eyes get crushed, teeth get disintegrated, and noses are liquefied. Ears somehow stay around."

**Wallace "Marshall": Demon Blade (Former Bounty: $366,000,000,000,000)**

"You say something?"

"Nothing, except you're a total bitchface."

"Okay I heard THAT one!"

A cloud of smoke overwhelmed them, obscuring anything past six feet. They both paused, Croix not at all worried that he was standing in the air.

"You seeing this crap?" asked the DJ.

"Yeah, and I ain't liking it," grunted Wallace.

A man suddenly appeared to the side of the swordsman, licking his lips. He sniffed him loudly, his face very similar to a rat. "Fresh meat. Interesting."

Wallace swung wildly, but the rat man had already dodged. He seemed to be twitching, his eyes different sizes.

"Slow, but strong," continued the rat man. "Very strong."

Wallace hefted his blade, spinning ferociously at the rat man. He hit him with a dull edge, sending him flying off the bridge. The rat man hit the wall, only to teleport back onto his feet.

"Very, very strong," corrected the rat man.

**Twitch: A little bit Ratty (Sentenced For: Drug Trafficking, Theft) **

Croix paused, noticing a massive mountain of a man standing on the nearest edge. The man was holding a sledgehammer taped to a fire axe, his hands easily able to palm basketballs.

The man swung, hitting the air. The air actually shattered under the blow, rippling around Croix and causing him to lose his balance. He leaped off and landed on a new patch of air, his eyes wide.

"Who are you guys?!" yelled the Demon of Song. "Come on, I just got here and you want to kill me!"

"Just a preliminary test," spoke a female voice, walking through the smoke. The two men immediately stopped the aggression, turning and bowing towards the source.

The female was dressed in dark pink, her hair jet black and going past her waist. She seemed to be emitting the smoke from around her, mainly through her teeth. She cocked her head back, flashing an immense grin.

"I'm Mary Jane, leader of the Junkies," explained the female. "The big guy is Crackhead. The rat-faced man is Twitch. You are the Watchdogs?"

"Damn right," snapped Wallace walking off the bridge. "Hell of a way to welcome someone to your home."

"Rather rude if you ask me," murmured Croix.

"Oh cry some more. I don't want to work with weaklings. The fact you survived my fog proved you are strong. If you were weak…"

Her eyes widened, showing the madness within. "I would've absorbed you long ago."

Wallace smirked. "Really? Funny. It was us who were supposed to assess you. And to be brutally honest…"

He raised his blade, flashing his bandolier of ear trophies. "You're looking pretty fucking weak right now!"

Croix nodded, turning up the volume on his headphones. "Yeah…can't help but agree."

Mary Jane paused, raising an eyebrow. "Really? Huh…I guess you don't recognize me. It has been a while, hasn't it?"

Suddenly the smoke thickened, wrapping around her body tightly. Horrific images began to accumulate in the smoke, all cast over her grinning face. They saw dozens of dead men and women in the smoke, all being distorted and killed incredibly violently even by their standards.

"Oh…now I remember how that name was familiar," muttered Wallace. "I thought the portfolio was similar…"

"One of our rejected Watchdog applicants," noted Croix Sonore. "You applied under the name Vamp. We denied you due to personality disorders."

"Fair enough," admitted Mary Jane not at all offended. "I am pretty disorderly. It's like one big storm up here."

She pointed to her brain. "And considering how many people are in here, that's no surprise."

**Mary Jane: The Assimilator (Sentenced For: Drug Trafficking, Conspiracy Murder, Larceny)**

"We gonna stand around here all day?" asked Croix impatiently. "I gotta recharge my headphones."

"I grow hungry," snapped Wallace. "Take us to your hideout."

"Hmph, typical of you Universal Government types," murmured Mary Jane. "No politeness to speak of. Oh well, I guess that's just the cost of your services. Come along."


	7. Chapter 7: New Employees

Mary Jane stood at the top of her tower, smoke still hovering around her feet. Night had passed in the prison, meaning no matter who you were, you went indoors. Even the Clowns, the mentally unstable gang made of the criminally insane, never ventured outside when the lights were off.

"Even with all our power, we're still slaves to this place," she whispered, her eyes flashing. "To that man…Eddy Tsar…he disgusts me."

"Really? Me too."

She glanced upwards, noticing a man seated on the rafters. He had a burlap shirt that was large enough to cover him to his knees, which were kicking with his legs absently. His hair was a mass of messy pink fibers, his eyes penetratingly gold.

"Mockingbird…little brother," whispered Mary Jane. "It's been too long."

The Siren/Titan hybrid jumped down, grinning widely. "Definitely. You've set yourself up pretty good in this place, even though you did get locked up."

"You've grown very powerful as well," murmured the woman. "Grave Knights, Sirens and Titans…how many people have you absorbed?"

"Too many to count," grunted Mockingbird. "You've done the same. It's just a shame our abilities are so different."

Mary Jane staggered, a spike of pain going through her mind. She desperately went over to her desk, grabbing one of the cigarettes on a tray. She lit it and inhaled several breaths, lowering her pulse significantly.

"Yeah," she said finally, the pain subsiding. "I absorb a person's life energy as well as their memories, and you absorb their powers. Mine has the side-effect of mind-numbing headaches."

"While I got stuck with schizophrenia," finished Mockingbird. "Whatever."

He walked to the window, glancing at the huge towers the other gangs had built in the distance. "Wow…so many buildings…is that bright pink one the Fags?"

"Yeah, they're hosting the guests for the game," explained Mary Jane joining him. "It's our job to kill them all."

"Heh, excellent. The Vault Hunters in there?"

"Uh…I think so. Why do you care?"

Mockingbird sighed. "When I worked with Bellum, I was assigned to monitor them. I betrayed Bellum, and yet I still follow this order. Why? It amuses me. And that's all the excuse I need."

"You never changed little brother. Still the same hedonistic psychopath."

They stared into the dark, noticing the impenetrable silence that overcame the prison.

"Is it always like this at night?" inquired Mockingbird.

"Always," confirmed Mary Jane. "Turns out this place was inhabited before Eddy started putting prisoners in here."

"Inhabited by what?"

She glared at him. "Think genius. What is one thing no one would ever cross, no matter how strong they were?"

Mockingbird's eyes widened. "Eridians? They're here?"

"Sweeney City's Vault is still protected by them," murmured Mary Jane. "Eddy releases them at night so he doesn't have to pay the guards more pay. It's damn effective."

"But Eridians aren't that tough, are they?" asked Mockingbird.

"These are different," whispered the Junkie leader reverently. "They…mess with your head. They cause violent hallucinations and…we don't know. There aren't any bodies left if we don't find you in time. The last guy who went out at night and saw one was a gibbering wreck. We put a bullet in his head to put him out of his misery."

"Huh, effective security. How the hell does Eddy control something like that?"

"Who knows? Eddy may be a creepy bum, but he's still a genius. He probably thought of a way to control them."

"Maybe we could steal it from him," murmured Mockingbird grinning widely.

"Don't even think about it," snapped Mary Jane. "The last time someone tried to take over Eddy's tower, he tied their entire gang onto stakes and let the Eridians…do whatever they do. It all went black and they were all gone when we tried to monitor it."

"Huh, so boring. And I thought prison would be a nice change of pace."

"Oh, you haven't seen shit yet. You haven't met a Sexual Deviant or a Clown. Those people will show you exactly what prison does to people."

"Oh goodie. Maybe I'll stick around for a bit longer."

"You know, technically, I'm supposed to kill you," stated Mary Jane. "You are a participant, aren't you?"

"Nope, I'm a refugee," explained Mockingbird. "Wanted by nobody, hunted by everybody. I don't belong anywhere anymore, or to anyone. It's a nice existence."

"Sounds a bit lonely though."

Mary Jane walked over to him, grasping at her brother's hand. "You always have a home with your big sister. As long as I live, I will help you."

He pushed her hand away, scowling. "Do not think I forgot what you did to me."

"Hey, killing you was just reflexive. It's a shame you can't die right, you big fuck-up."

"And you can't stop your impulses, you damn bitch."

Mary Jane grinned, the smoke beginning to thicken around her body with her eyes brightening. "Yeah, I guess we're a whole family of shitheads. Runs in the blood I guess."

Mockingbird leaped back onto the rafters, grinning from above. "Well, I think I need to get going. It's been nice big sister."

"Yeah, it has. Oh, and if you come back, I will kill you."

"Heh, fair enough."

* * *

The two men sat in the immense tower in the center of Sweeny City, their office a perfect viewpoint over the entire prison. They had numerous monitors all over the dashboard around them, showing any camera they were missing. The headsets and microphones made it seem like they were comcasters, which was exactly what they were.

"Uh…Scott…what is going on?" inquired the first man. He was a fairly large guy, appearing similar to a weightlifter with the covering of body fat as well as muscle. He was missing an eye as well, a massive burn over where it should be. Around him was a bunch of beer bottles and burnt cigars, already half-buzzed.

"Rich…I'm kinda scared," murmured the second man. He was far thinner than his comrade, but was very attractive regardless. He appeared fairly feminine, his skin extremely pale and his eyelashes long. He had several pill bottles around him, popping one every few minutes to help him to stay awake.

"First of all, stop being a pussy. Second of all, so am I. Where the fuck are we?"

The second man stopped, realizing something. "Wait, I know what it is!"

"That makes one of us."

"We finally have an appearance Rich! We're characters now!"

"What the fuck?! Whoa…I'm hot as hell!"

"Dude, I feel ya! I'd totally bang myself!"

"…I'm going to pretend I never heard that and have another beer."

Richard McGuinness guzzled down another beer, grinning. "So now we got bodies, eh? That's neat. We're still commentators, right?"

"Of course we are! We're fan-favorites! I think. Eh, who cares? Good news is, we can now justify our presence in the story again! We're providing all the glorious coverage of Eddy Tsar's Five Weeks of Hell for galaxies everywhere! And the best part is…"

"The free pizza!" roared Richard shoving another slice into his face. "Goddamn Eddy knows some good cooks!"

"Hell yeah," grunted Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale biting into a slice as well. He raised a bottle of booze. "A toast, to our new job."

"May we exploit it to our fullest till we are fired!" chimed in Richard.

They slammed bottles together. Unfortunately, they both were so drunk/high they had underestimated their strength, shattering the glass and sending chunks of it into their hands.

"Ah, ah!" screamed Scotty holding his hand. "Icky red stuff!"

"Stop panicking!" yelled Richard panicking. "We gotta be calm! What was that advice they said to do when you…OH MY GOD WHY IS IT BURNING?!"

"The alcohol you idiot!" snapped the drug addict pulling chunks of it out of his hand. "Quick, burn it off!"

Richard, without even a second of consideration, pulled out his lighter and lit his own arm on fire. The alcohol instantly lit, covering him with a gauntlet of flames.

"Why did I do that?!" screamed the alcoholic.

He sprinted over to the bathroom, shoving his hand into the toilet to put it out. He sighed happily, pulling it out to reveal the tender pink flesh.

"That is going to feel like shit in the morning," he murmured.

Scotty was laughing his ass off in his chair, holding his gut to keep it from bursting. "You actually did it! Oh my God you really are drunk! That was hilarious!"

Richard narrowed his eyes, grabbing the top cover of the toilet. He walked over quickly to the drug addict and smacked him with it, his great strength allowing him to do so easily.

Scotty's head slammed into the floor, blood dripping from the side and his eyes crossed. Obviously he had not expected that.

"Fucker," snapped the alcoholic pulling glass out of his hand.

The door opened, Eddy Tsar peeking in. "So how's your first day on the…"

He paused, noticing the small fire in the corner from where Richard had been panicking and Scotty slowly bleeding out on the floor. He raised an eyebrow.

"…I'm not even mad, this is amazing," murmured the prison owner. "I should set up cameras in here."

"Get me a damn med kit!" snapped Richard. "Oh, and get that queer-dick a nurse. An ugly one."


	8. Chapter 8: Trap Pileup

Mortem was waiting on top of Lupus's bed, a wooden spoon and frying pan in her hand. She was grinning widely, mischief on the brain. She was staring at the clock, waiting for exactly one minute before the alarm was supposed to go off.

"Is that a good idea?" inquired Suture calmly, having barely slept the entire night.

"No," answered Mortem honestly. "It'll just be funny as hell."

Jackal Cash was busy shining his pistols, not really concerned if she did what she was planning. Everyone else was sleeping comfortably, Edward snoring so loud that it seemed to shake the rafters above them.

The clock struck one minute before six, Mortem rapidly clinging her instruments together. "Wake up assholes! We got a busy day ahead of us!"

Lupus Cithara woke up with a start, slugging her in the face instinctively. She was thrown off the bed and slammed into the floor, groaning in pain.

"That wasn't funny," she murmured quietly.

"Was to me," grunted Suture.

Edward roared and fell off the bottom bunk, cracking the floor beneath his massive body. "The fuck's happening?!"

"Someone woke us," elaborated Vladimir, wiping the grogginess from his eyes.

"I can hear that! What the hell else happened?!"

"Nothing, you idiot," snapped Hemera, not at all amused at the rude awakening. "We just got woke up by a rude little midget."

"I am not a midget!" protested Mortem. "I am a grown woman trapped in a child's body! A very cute body I might add, but still!"

Dr. Ivanlove threw open the door, his entire outfit now orange and black. Apparently he was in a 'Daddy' sort of mood. "Oh, you're up! Excellent! We have a long day ahead of us! Day 2!"

"But we were here for 3…" protested Simo.

"The first day didn't count!" argued Dr. Ivanlove. "And now it gets serious!"

Edward threw on his white and black cloak, grabbing his machine gun. "Fine. What's our first job?"

Dr. Ivanlove grinned. "Every day, Eddy Tsar deposits packages of aid for us prisoners. Food, medicine, pornography…all the things people need to survive. Unfortunately, we all have to fight to get any of them."

"And I get the feeling every gang here wants them," murmured Suture.

"Of course, my fellow doctor. The closest package is near Junkie territory, so we'll have to fight them off. I'm trusting you all to get the package itself, mainly since you're the only ones here who actually look like you know what you're doing."

"Sounds about right," commented Hemera.

"I'm guessing all the strong guys will be there then?" asked Simo nervously.

"Oh most definitely. Isn't this fun?"

"Not many would call killing fun," murmured Lupus.

"Well this is Sweeney City, so murder is the best entertainment short of my musical performances! So get going children! I have many things to attend to today!"

* * *

The eight men, half Vault Hunters and half Syndicate, stormed down the alleys of Sweeney City carrying a full arsenal on their backs. Edward and Suture lead, both leaders of their various teams.

"So these two Watchdogs…" began the doctor. "You know them?"

"They were my comrades once," grunted the Metal Titan, sparks flying with every step he took. "However…their crimes against me and the Syndicate are unforgivable. If they poke their heads out, I will kill them. Mission be damned."

"Captain, this time I must protest," spoke Vladimir. "The Fags are housing us for this competition. It only makes sense to aid them however we can."

Edward snarled, but said nothing else.

The sounds of gunfire echoed throughout the city, numerous groups fighting over the aid packages Eddy had dropped only a few minutes ago. There was none near their destination though, and that was more concerning.

"Either we're too late, or they're waiting for us," commented Lupus.

"Bring it on," snapped Hemera.

They entered a courtyard, noticing a large crate with a parachute in the center. The crate was not opened, and there was no sign anyone had even entered the courtyard before. It was far too suspicious to be this convenient.

"Simo, see anything?" inquired Suture.

The sniper was several blocks away, staring into the courtyard through a scope. He only had a narrow line of sight of them, but could see a few buildings around them. "Uh…nothing. No movement at all. This is freaky."

Jackal Cash paused, suddenly realizing something. He looked down. "The sewers!"

A large hammer burst from beneath the concrete, slamming into Edward's jaw and sending him flying into a building. The wielder of the hammer jumped out of the hole, grinning widely.

"Hi," spoke Crackhead, snorting again. Obviously he had been snorting cocaine before the attack, and still had some stuck in his nasal cavities.

Jackal pulled out his pistol, firing a beam that knocked Crackhead straight off his feet. The giant rolled across the ground and slid to a halt, now on his knees.

"Captain, you alright?!" demanded Vladimir.

"Eat a dick!" snapped Edward climbing out of the hole. "I've tanked harder things than that!"

Hemera dashed to the crate, her entire body transformed into light. She hit it on the side, splitting its top open with ease. The contents were all in large bags, allowing someone to easily carry them away without affecting fighting ability.

Then she tripped, sending her sailing into a nearby building at near-sonic speeds. She grunted, grabbing her bleeding head.

"I don't trip unless someone trips me," she grunted annoyed.

"Correct," spoke Twitch, leaning over her with a blank face. "You really should've checked the box. I set up traps everywhere. One wrong step, and…"

He grinned. "Well, you'll find out."

Suture paused, thinking the situation through. "Hmm…traps everywhere, and two strong enemies…"

He glanced way in the distance. "Simo, shoot that crate with an incendiary."

Crackhead's eyes widened. "You're fucking joking."

Simo loaded a bullet, aiming right at the crate. "Uh…you sure Doc?"

"Fire," ordered Suture.

The sniper fired, setting the crate ablaze.

"What the hell?!" shouted Twitch.

"We need to get the supplies!" yelled Crackhead. He began running to the crate, tripping the trap wires with every step.

"You dumbass it's still rigged! Stop!"

The floor beneath Crackhead detonated, sending him tumbling back into the sewers. He swore loudly, tumbling down into the darkness of the sewers. Only the floor beneath the crate was still there, seeming held up with a few scant beams.

"Damn, that was clever," complimented Twitch.

Suture fired a blast of blood at the crate, splattering it across the top to put out the fire. He grew wings on his back, readying to fly. "That should do it. Now we can…"

Twitch pulled out a detonator, grinning psychotically.

"Too fucking bad I'm smarter than you!" roared the meth addict. He pushed the button.

The entire courtyard detonated, the ground beneath them collapsing into the sewers. They all fell into the darkness, the sewers seemingly infinite in space.

"Everyone, grab on!" commanded Edward. He began to form a metal ball around the group, covering them in a protective canister.

Then they hit solid ground, the metal egg shattering upon impact. They all rolled out, groaning in pain.

"Roll count!" yelled Suture. "Who isn't dead?"

"I'm alive, unfortunately," grunted Lupus.

"I'm dead, technically," added Mortem.

"God, now we're stuck," noted Hemera.

"Hey, I joined too!" shouted Simo. "Not sure why I jumped in the hole though…"

"Oh that's great," spoke the Light Siren. "Why don't all you idiots start showing up?"

"Me and Vlad were here the whole time," commented Edward.

"The fuck you want, a medal?"

"I want a lot of things actually. Money, power, a laser shark. Lots of things."

"It was a rhetorical question asshole!"

"I'm gonna rhetorical my foot up your ass if you use one of those college words again!"

"Everyone just calm the hell down!" shouted Suture. "We're stuck in a sewer, it smells like urine, and we are not getting out of here faster by yelling at each other like a bunch of idiots!"

"The doctor is correct," spoke Vladimir. "We need to find a way out."

Mortem was studying the hole far above them, scratching her smooth chin. "…we need a really big ramp."

"Oh yeah, with safety bars and waitresses," commented Lupus, his snark coming back full force since the fall. "Maybe even a couple big-titty blowjob models with yellow fever every ten steps."

"That sounds pretty nice," added Edward.

Lupus threw his hands in the air. "My God, I'm surrounded by idiots!"

"Join the club," murmured Hemera.

* * *

Mary Jane kicked Twitch savagely in the stomach, standing above the hole with smoke whirling around her. "Idiot! Why did you set up a trap like that?!"

"I thought it-t would b-b-be a good idea!" protested the rat-faced man, huddled at her feet pitifully.

"To blow the supplies straight to hell?!"

"M-my sincerest-t apologies! I-I-I'm running l-l-l-lo-w you see-e…"

"You'll get your next week's stash when you get that damn package!" she yelled. "Go get that crate!"

"B-but it's at the b-bottom of-f the hole…"

She grabbed him with one hand, hoisting him off the ground. She glared into his eyes.

"Find it," she said before tossing him into the hole. She didn't even glance back, walking away extremely annoyed.

"I hope Crackhead made it out though," she murmured. "At least he knows how to follow orders."

* * *

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Hey Rich, I just thought of something."**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Drop it down."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Where's Bellum? Weren't they like, the main antagonist for a while? Then Vangorium came along, then Cassius, and now whoever the hell counts in this DLC. They ever gonna kick the bucket, or is that just a thing?"**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Uh…I think our producer said they will be dealt with. He refused to reveal anymore details, but I'm thinking he wants these Universal Government queers to be the new antagonist. Odd to be shifting it in the middle of a story though."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Wait…we aren't doing a sequel series are we? You know, with a new antagonist and shit?"**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Dear God I hope not. I don't think our blood pressure can afford it. Plus, all good stories need to end. Look at Pile of Lemons."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Rest in peace our favorite guilty pleasure."**


	9. Chapter 9: The Forgotten Enemy

Lilith sat quietly at the table, the cup of coffee that had been placed there several minutes ago cold and untouched. She was far too anxious to drink it, only fighting the exhaustion through sheer willpower.

"…this sucks," she grunted finally.

"No shit," murmured Axton, tempting on gouging his own eyes out with his fingers. "I hate this."

Wolfenstein kept studying the pile of papers, one of the many copies before him. "No matter how we look at it, it never changes."

Marcus Kincaid nodded, grateful he was finally getting screentime again. "Yep…Bellum is still alive."

On the monitors around the room, the other CEO's were slowly signing in for the meeting. First was Nicholas Vladof, smoking his hookah with a smile on his face. Montgomery Jakobs and Stanton Dahl logged in next, both of them looking rather tired. Mister Torgue's monitor flashed, the massive giant occupying the entire monitor. Teresa Pangolin and Shizukesa Anshin appeared as well, both of them offering smiles that disguised their hidden violence.

Eventually, Grave Lord Arlon appeared as well, now wearing his frozen armor to indicate his readiness for war. The Syndicate monitor, however, was still blank.

"Everyone here?" asked Nicholas.

"Not yet," answered Lilith. "Edward's in Sweeney City, so I bet the Syndicate has to elect a new representative for this meeting."

Suddenly the Syndicate monitor flashed, exposing an empty chair and desk. A head popped out from the lip of the desk, fuzzy red hair and bright yellow eyes accompanying it.

"Little Becca signing in for the Syndicate!" shouted the child, barely able to see above the desk.

**Little Becca "Fire-Starter": Torch the Whole World (Bounty: $200,000,000,000,000)**

"There's no way," muttered Lilith astonished.

"IT'S ADORABLE!" roared Mister Torgue, nearly blowing out his microphone as well.

"Not the oddest business contact," murmured Shizukesa.

"Little Becca!" snapped a stern motherly voice. "Get off that monitor!"

"But Ms. Tarot…!" complained the child.

"Now!"

The child hopped away, a woman replacing her spot at the chair. The woman had scars around her mouth that extended her smile, though she was notably frowning. She was shuffling a deck of blank white cards, each one glowing rainbow colors before turning right back to blank.

"I am Eleanor Tarot, the second highest bounty in the universe," explained the woman. "Edward the Kidd may represent our group, but I'm the real leader here. It would be wise not to irritate me."

**Eleanor Tarot "Lucky Bitch": The Cards Are Against You (Bounty: $900,900,900,900,900)**

Montgomery Jakobs smiled pleasantly, his metal gauntlets sparking with every motion. "Gud day miss. Probably for dah best we got some more lady influence on dese…uh…"

"PROCEEDINGS?!" proposed Mister Torgue.

"Yes, thanks, proceedings. Ladies are…uh…a bit more diplomatic than us guys are, and…"

"Oh for the love of God, let's just get on with this," snapped Nicholas impatiently. "Hello Ms. Tarot, now let's start this meeting. I'm missing footage from my nephew."

"Eddy Tsar?" inquired Lilith. "That fat slob is your nephew?"

"Regrettably," admitted the Vladof CEO. "My sister, God bless her, had a disgustingly repulsive son. However, his cruelty is perfect for maintaining Sweeney City, which is why I gave it to him. And now, he's finally doing something interesting with it."

"That's another thing that's worrying me," noted Lilith. "Bellum normally jumps on the Vault bandwagon, but we haven't seen a single transmission towards anywhere near Sweeney City. Either they simply haven't shown up yet, or they're doing something else."

"What could those insane Nazis do?" inquired Stanton Dahl II, son of the original Stanton. "They've just been nipping at our heels since we left Pandora. They're barely a threat."

"They also got a sleeper agent in our ranks twice and killed my closest comrade," snapped the Siren angrily. "I never underestimate them now."

"That Mockingbird fellow?" asked Arlon. "He concerns me as well. What side is he even on? He's a traitor to Bellum, and we're out for him as well. Who would house him?"

Nicholas chuckled, blowing a cloud of smoke around him. "You don't understand Mockingbird then. I used to be like that in my younger years. He's a sociopath with poor impulse control. He wants to have fun, and his definition of fun is spreading chaos. That's all there is to him."

"So we have Bellum, and one of their rogue agents to deal with," spoke Marcus sighing. "And on top of that, we declared war on the Universal Government, the largest monarchy in the entire universe that controls literally every planet we don't. Why do I get the feeling we're the underdogs here?"

"GOOD!" roared Mister Torgue, leaning close itno his monitor. "UNDERDOGS ALWAYS F***ING WIN! THAT'S THE WAY STORIES GO, ISN'T IT?! WE'RE GONNA F*** S*** UP!"

"I like being the underdog," grunted Axton, a brief flash of his old glory hound exposing itself.

"We can win," spoke Wolfenstein confidently.

Lilith smirked. "I have no doubts we can. But we have to deal with one thing at a time. First, we need to find Bellum and figure out what they are up to. They don't lay silent this long without some kind of plan. I'm starting a program of my Vault Hunters to begin tracking them down, the ones not in Sweeney City I mean. I'll keep you all updated."

"As your newest ally, I will assist however I can," stated Eleanor. "I can send any of our Syndicate members to assist you if the need requires. Do not be shy in asking, we are in the same boat now."

"Fantastic," said Nicholas, inhaling a puff of smoke. "Let's hope this all goes over well. I can't wait to see how it ends."

"Either way, dah peace will finally be restored," spoke Montgomery.

"YEAH, PEACE F***ING ROCKS!" shouted Mister Torgue.

"The cards will be dealt, and who they fall to will determine the victor," murmured Eleanor Tarot, flaring out her cards dramatically.

"Can't say I ever liked peace much," grunted Marcus. "I hate needless death though, so I'd take the first over the second."

"They will die, or I will," stated Grave Lord Arlon.

Lilith chuckled. "Wow, I really got some crazy friends now. Oh well. I think Roland and Brick would approve of you guys. Meeting adjourned."


	10. Chapter 10: Psychological Analysis 1

Nurse Katelyn adjusted the camera in front of the table, making sure all the equipment was working. Since Doctor Suture was busy in Sweeney City, she was in charge of his official duties.

Since Lilith had created a program for the other Vault Hunters, she was in charge of making sure they were fit for duty. Oddly, this also included psychologically. As Lilith had commented, 'every damn Vault Hunter is crazy, but they can't be too crazy'. In other words, it was her job to make sure they weren't cracking.

She sat down at the far chair, adjusting her lab coat. "Log 1. Proctor is Nurse Katelyn, standing in for Doctor Suture. I will be conducting psychological analysis for all current Vault Hunters and Crimson Raiders. Due to the potential for violent outbursts, I am heavily armed and have full clearance to use my weaponry. What will follow are the excerpts from my interviews with each subject. Let's get started."

* * *

**Sergeant Jessup: **So I pull the trigger, and I'm covered in brains. We're talking like drenched, soaked, just-busted-a-two-week-old-nut-on-a-bitch's-face covered. And the guy they sent with me, he's bawling like a kid, absolutely terrified. The look on his fucking face [breaks into laughter]…oh my god give me a second…

**Nurse Katelyn: **…and that's your happiest memory of being a Crimson Raider?

* * *

**Nurse Katelyn:** Now just tell me what you see.

**Vice-Admiral Wolfenstein:** …I see a symmetrical abstract shape made of #3 ink. As the paper is folded in half, I can only determine it is a Rorschach test, or 'inkblot' test.

**Nurse Katelyn:** Really? You don't see anything else? An ocean, animals, people? Nothing?

**Vice-Admiral Wolfenstein:** No. It is merely a collection of abstract shapes.

**Nurse Katelyn:** Uh…okay. Let's try something else…you look hungry. Are you hungry?

* * *

**Alan Fitzgerald:** …

**Nurse Katelyn:** …

**Alan Fitzgerald:** …I want to kill everyone on this ship.

**Nurse Katelyn:** What?!

**Alan Fitzgerald:** What? What's the matter ma'am?

**Nurse Katelyn:** You…you just said you wanted to kill everyone on the ship!

**Alan Fitzgerald:** Pardon? Are you saying I said that sometimes I wake up in the morning, think about taking my straight razor, slit the throats of all the Vault Hunters in my quarters and then ran around the ship naked killed everyone else?

**Nurse Katelyn:** You…you literally said it again! Listen!

[Sounds of a tape recorder play]

**Alan Fitzgerald:** I'm not hearing anything ma'am. I just hear me talking about waking up and shaving.

**Nurse Katelyn:** Listen you little…

**Alan Fitzgerald:** You really should take a nap ma'am. Auditory hallucinations could result from lack of sleep or stress.

**Nurse Katelyn:** …you're not getting out of this interview. Your little mind games and threats of violence are just attempts to get to me.

**Alan Fitzgerald:** That's ridiculous. That's as ridiculous as me preparing an arsenic-laced piece of gum to give under the guise of neighborliness, killing you while I stuff your corpse into an airlock and blasting it out into space so no evidence can be presented against me.

**Nurse Katelyn:** …this interview is over…

**Alan Fitzgerald:** Gum?

* * *

**Mortem:** Okay, so make small circles around the base, he'll love that. Also, make sure to give particular attention to the top, especially around the space between the top and the pole…

**Nurse Katelyn:** [furiously taking notes] Wait, with my hands or my tongue?

* * *

**Nurse Katelyn:** Okay, this is a very simple question: Are you, or are you not dating Taika?

**Saprus:** …seriously? You too?

**Nurse Katelyn:** I endorsed the relationship since it was told to me by Gaige. Response?

**Saprus:** …this interview is over.

* * *

**Nurse Katelyn:** Baldemar, I am beginning to think you are addicted to sex.

**Baldemar Rodrigues:** What makes you say that?

**Nurse Katelyn:** …I can feel Gaige's feet tapping mine. She is under the table with her head between your legs.

**Baldemar Rodrigues:** Your point?

**Nurse Katelyn:** …are you getting close?

**Baldemar Rodrigues:** Unbelievably.

* * *

**Nurse Katelyn:** And how did that make you feel?

**Aurai:** Awful! I bought a really cute dress and shoes just for that night, and HBCM decides to play video games! I was absolutely furious!

**Nurse Katelyn:** Aurai, please put down the lamp. Aurai…security!

* * *

**Nurse Katelyn:** And why exactly did you not cuddle with Aurai that night?

**Dion Kormos:** …my fucking leg was snapped in half from Edward's 'training'. I was in a little bit of agonizing pain.

**Nurse Katelyn:** Is that your only excuse?

**Dion Kormos:** …I'm in trouble, aren't I?

* * *

**Zero:** Blood danced in my sight/Flying from the end of my sword/I stood triumphant.

**Nurse Katelyn:** …so are you a robot, an alien, or what?

**Zero:** I am Zero. That is all I am.

**Nurse Katelyn:** …how can you be so compliant but also so frustrating?

* * *

**Krieg:** SO THEN I RIPPED HIS FUN-STICK OUT OF HIS BACK AND TRIED TO GET THE CANDY OUT OF MY PINATA!

**Nurse Katelyn:** You assault a bandit with his own spine?

**Krieg:** PINATA!

**Nurse Katelyn:** Right. I'm not even sure why I interviewed you to be honest.

* * *

**Rocko:** I ain't sure why I'm here/My mind is fairly damn clear. Ain't no way I'm all cracked up/I…

**Nurse Katelyn:** You're fine. God please stop rapping.

* * *

**Gaige:** So I followed the bloodstains. That sneaky fucker had tried hiding in the broom closet while he was administering a med-kit! Blew that little bitch up is what I did.

**Nurse Katelyn:** So you killed several low-class personal over the lack of a coffee filter replacement.

**Gaige:** Well you might see that as a bit extreme…

**Nurse Katelyn:** A coffee machine in a break room you do not use…

**Gaige:** It's the principle! No coffee means tired Vault Hunters. Tired Vault Hunters mean mission failures. Mission failures mean no money, and I like money! Get what I'm saying?

**Nurse Katelyn:** …what is that buzzing noise?

**Gaige:** …I have no idea what you're talking about.

* * *

**Nurse Katelyn:** So your obsession with Tina has been cured?

**Mel:** Well it wasn't really a disease, but yeah. I'm more interested in something else.

**Nurse Katelyn:** What is that?

**Mel:** Killing every single motherfucker I can find.

**Nurse Katelyn:** …I think I preferred the original problem we were dealing with.

* * *

**Ningyo Torikku:** So nurse…what you doing after this meeting?

**Nurse Katelyn:** I recommend you remain professional Mr. Torikku, or I will shoot you. Your flirtations are both distracting and exasperating.

**Ningyo Torikku:** Hey, just trying to be friendly. I wouldn't do anything, since you're dating the good Doctor. How is he anyway?

**Nurse Katelyn:** Fine. What about you? You seemed nervous about going to Sweeney City. In fact, you were one of our first choices.

**Ningyo Torikku:** Well…I hate prisons. Even fancy ones with fancy names and fancy people. It just…makes my skin crawl.

**Nurse Katelyn:** Fair enough. Now onto…

**Ningyo Torikku:** You want to get dinner? I'm starving.

* * *

**Nurse Katelyn:** We found the head of Private Claire in your locker.

**Taika:** Huh, isn't that odd.

**Nurse Katelyn:** The decapitating blow matches your machete, and the word 'bitch' etched into her forehead matched your handwriting.

**Taika:** Huh, who'd a thunk.

**Nurse Katelyn:** …we also found fingerprints and camera footage of you murdering her.

**Taika: **Really? That's super interesting nurse.

**Nurse Katelyn:** Why did you kill her?

**Taika:** …sneaky little bitch snuck into Saprus's room.

**Nurse Katelyn:** Ah, now I get it. That also confirms a few things…

* * *

**Nurse Katelyn:** Really? You don't see anything?

**Del:** It's just a bunch of black Doc.

**Nurse Katelyn:** Oh come on. You can't see that puppy in the corner? The explosion even? The skull? The giant tentacle-monster violating a Jananice schoolgirl?

**Del:** All I see is black…and your pointer finger.

**Nurse Katelyn:** God…just like Wolfenstein…

* * *

**Nurse Katelyn:** So Captain Lowe, how are you adapting to the crew? Any problems? Any people you really dislike?

**Captain Bartholomew Lowe:** No.

**Nurse Katelyn:** …really? If you hate guys like Ningyo or Alan, you don't have to defend them. We all hate them a little. No problems at all?

**Captain Bartholomew Lowe:** Not really. I have a nice room. Lots of space, my own garage, lots of booze and women. A guy could get used to this.

**Nurse Katelyn:** So…no problems?

**Captain Bartholomew Lowe:** Yeah. Why is that so hard to believe?

**Nurse Katelyn:** If you knew the kinda day I went through…

* * *

_Final Analysis: After long consideration, I have determined every Vault Hunter either has upfront or repressed psychological issues, ranging from mild sociopathic tendencies to outright psychopathy. Even the 'normal' ones we possess appear to be hiding some deep regrets or simple quirks that mark them with anomie. _

_Regardless, they all appear to be ready for missions, though I would advise caution teaming certain Vault Hunters with others due to conflicting personalities or ideologies, as this increases the risk of mission failure. _

_Also, I do not want to do this ever again. _


	11. Chapter 11: Rise

Suture walked in front of the group, a small glowing ball of his blood hovering in front of them. It emitted enough light for them to see, though the red tint it had was rather creepy to say the least.

"So do we know anything about the sewers?" inquired the doctor. "Or are we wandering blind for the next few weeks?"

"Wait!" yelled Mortem, holding out her hands dramatically.

Everyone stopped, staring at her in a mix of astonishment and anticipation.

A few seconds later, the Grave Knight burst into ecstatic laughter. "Oh my fucking God I was joking! What were you all expecting?!"

Lupus smacked her in the back of the head, nearly knocking her to the ground. "Dumbass. Anyone have an idea on how to figure our way through?"

Edward paused, hearing something. "…bad guys. The Junkies must've sent people."

He grinned, raising his machine gun. "The right way is the way with bad guys! Let's go that way!"

"Unfortunately, that's actually sound advice," murmured Hemera.

"I'm game," grunted Jackal Cash.

Vladimir Cain said nothing, drawing his sword to indicate his approval.

The eight-man team marched down the hall, finally coming close to the noises they had heard earlier. They readied their weapons, turning the corner into a massive room.

The first thing they noticed was the people inside it were glowing from the eyes and mouth, functioning like flashlights in a way. Their skin was grey and metallic, stitched together in a variety of places. They dragged themselves like zombies, seemingly having no energy at all.

Then one of them looked up, catching them in its gaze. The blue light suddenly turned red, a loud siren emitting from its body. The others turned, gazing at them. The room filled with their sirens, deafening in pitch and tone.

"That ain't good!" roared Edward.

The Junkies rushed towards them, the eight of them opening fire. They fell like flies, but there were hundreds of them coming towards them.

"Back up!" ordered Suture, all of them going back into the hallway they had come from. The bodies began to pile in a line in front of them, the Junkies easily crawling over their fallen to continue. They had no fear, no doubt, no hesitation. So basically they were like those people who go out on Black Friday.

**[Richard McGuinness]"Or zombies…"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "NO! We do not discuss that old work we did! It may have been our breakthrough work here, but damn it we don't have to talk about it!"**

Jackal grunted, charging up an extremely powerful shot. "Get down."

Everyone got out of the way, the cowboy firing a Numb Blast from his pistol. The entire hallway was filled with blinding light, torching the walls with the fire. The Junkies disintegrated into ash, the sirens dying off with them.

"So you only got stronger," murmured Suture.

"Absolutely," spoke the cowboy.

Suddenly a series of tapping noises came from a nearby wall, alerting all of them. They glanced at the wall curiously, not at all sure what that meant.

Finally, Mortem went over and knocked out the first part of Shave and A Haircut. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

The other side of the wall returned with Two Bits before a hand smashed its way through, grabbing Mortem by the hair and dragging her through.

"Found ya," grunted Crackhead, hoisting her off the ground with ease.

"Watch the hair!" complained the Grave Knight. "It doesn't grow that fast since I'm technically dead!"

He smirked, placing one of his axe blades to her neck. "Ah, okay. Sorry."

Edward slammed into him, knocking the large Junkie away and dropping Mortem.

Crackhead chuckled, rolling his shoulder. "Damn, that hurt. You're a heavy guy."

"Look who's talking," snapped the Grey-Dog Killer.

"Odd you should say that," spoke Twitch appearing seated on Edward's shoulder, easily able to keep himself there due to his small size.

Edward roared and spun, the rat-man teleporting away swiftly.

"Yeesh, so violent," grunted Twitch.

"Weren't you relapsing a second ago?" asked Crackhead.

"I'm fine now. It's Mary Jane that makes me withdraw. That bitch is like Satan with a vag."

"Amen to that."

Suture walked forward, growing bloody blades from his forearms. "My group will take the rat. You all get the big guy."

"I like that plan," spoke Edward with a grin.

Crackhead charged the group, tired of standing around doing nothing. Edward ran right at him, changing his body into metal as he ran. They slammed together, both of their strength equal enough to keep them from toppling over.

Jackal dashed in, firing a massive beam to knock Crackhead away. He began firing a series of shots at him, each one lighting up the room with blue.

Crackhead slammed his foot into the ground, knocking himself into the air. He landed on Jackal, hitting so hard he shattered the concrete below them. Bringing his sledgeaxe back, he was interrupted by a sword intercepting the strike.

Vladimir spun, throwing the large man's weapon away and slashing at his neck. Crackhead dodged to avoid a lethal blow, getting away with a cut jawline.

Hemera then sprinted in, kicking him squarely in the chest to knock him off Jackal. Crackhead flew and slid to a halt, his body smoking from her kick.

He grunted, sniffing hard. "This is going to be fun."

Lupus rushed at Twitch, firing two SMG's rapidly. The rat man fired a crossbow at him, bolts slamming into his body everywhere. The guitarist didn't care in the slightest, each volley of bullets getting closer and closer to the teleporting rat man.

Suture detonated a blood bomb, covering the entire room with the sticky red substance. He analyzed it rapidly, noticing something peculiar.

"His feet marks appear where he's going to teleport!" he yelled to his comrades. "Watch it!"

Simo nodded, leaning back with his sniper rifle.

Only for Twitch to appear right under his gun, stabbing him in the chest with a knife.

Simo gasped, the rat man withdrawing the blade and teleporting away. The sniper collapsed to his knees, holding the wound to try and stop it.

Mortem rushed over, analyzing his injuries. "Team medic to the rescue!"

She rolled up her right sleeve, biting down on her collar. "Quick! Bite me!"

Simo, without question, bit down hard on her forearm. Mortem groaned and moaned loudly, grinding her thighs together uncomfortably. Her face was beet red, her eyes closed.

Simo paused, noticing he was still dying. "Uh…did that do anything?"

"No, but I really needed a pick-me-up," explained Mortem slowly recovering from her…uh…you know. She then spat onto his wound, grinning widely. "That should do it!"

Simo grunted in pain, the saliva working its way through his body. His flesh boiled and began to heal, forming back into the place it should be.

"That can't be sterile," he noted calmly.

"Oh, it isn't. By the way, I seriously recommend some acyclovir or famciclovir after this."

Mortem turned, gesturing with one of her hands. The ground nearby split open, three pairs of skeletal hands appearing. They were followed by three bodies, all of them decaying and surrounded in flies. The first zombie was burning even as he stood there, parts of his body flying into the wind. The second crackled with electricity, similar to a Frankenstein's monster. The third was dripped with acid, his skin melting off into a pool below him.

"Rise my pets!" yelled the necromancer, overjoyed she finally got to show her ability. "Time to show people why I'm the best Vault Hunter!"

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Ya hear that? That was the sound of every Saprus and Wolfenstein fan disagreeing with her."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "How exactly did those two become popular? I understand Saprus, people love mysterious fuckers, but Wolfenstein? He's literally a characterization of The Captain from Hellsing."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Who the fuck knows? Why does any character get popular? How did this damn story get popular? How did we get famous on this site? Who knows, who cares?"**


	12. Chapter 12: Retreat

Suture danced across the walls, running across them with his bloody feet clinging to the concrete. He was spinning and firing off shots of blood rapidly, filling the room with the projectiles.

Twitch kept teleporting, only for several of the blood bullets to smack into him and detonate. He grunted, slamming into a series of pipes roughly.

Mortem's zombies charged the rat man. They began to claw at his skin, trying to grab him.

Twitch grabbed one by the arm and teleported away, shredding its upper body from the force. He kept teleporting, dashing towards Suture and stabbing him in the neck.

"I don't appreciate being hit!" he roared teleporting with the doctor, slamming him into the ground and walls multiple times like a pinball.

Suture coughed blood, his ribs shattered from the rough impacts. He made his blood detonate in his own chest, knocking Twitch away and sending him sprawling to the floor.

Lupus tackled the rat man, biting down hard onto his neck. Twitch screamed, but did not teleport away. Lupus grinned through his teeth, knowing what was happening.

"He can't teleport when someone is hurting him!" yelled Simo. "Get him!"

Mortem ran over, grinning widely. "Oh boy, what can we do to you rat man? I got a few ideas…"

Twitch tried to fight the guitarist off, but the man's jaw had locked into place. "Damn it all! Damn you!"

Crackhead turned from his fight, noticing his partner's distress. He grunted, ripping a pipe out of the nearby wall and tossing it like a javelin.

The pipe entered through Lupus's shoulder, running clean through and shattering his right collar. He staggered off, eyes wide in pain.

Twitch teleported away, panting lowly. "Thanks Crack!"

"Help me!" roared the cocaine addict. The close combatants of the Syndicate had severely damaged his body. Hemera had suffered a shattered jaw, but a few health vials from Vladimir had already healed her back to health.

Twitch gladly assisted, his knife aimed right at Edward's face. He cut straight through his eyes, the Titan having not reinforced his head in time.

Edward screamed in pain, blood pouring from the wound. "Fucking cunt-sucking bitch! Goddamn it!"

Vladimir blocked the next strike for his captain, slashing to get Twitch to back off. He pulled out three vials of healing potion, stabbing it into Edward's neck.

The Titan sighed, his natural regeneration aided greatly by the potion. Within ten seconds, his eyes had returned to him, albeit with a lot less eyelashes.

"Thanks Vlad," grunted Edward standing back up, turning his upper body into metal this time.

Hemera caught up with Twitch, kicking him in the collar to stun him. Spinning with her momentum, she swiped his feet from under him and slammed a knee into his chest.

Suture then sprinted in to aid her, his forearm a huge blade. He was aimed directly at the rat man's throat, ready to cut it.

As soon as his blade hit the man's neck, Twitch flashed for a second. Suture kept running, not a single ounce of his speed gone. It was like he had hit air, the blade not connecting to anything.

Twitch flashed again, moving straight through Hemera's body to stand beside her. He then stabbed her in the neck, leaving his knife in her throat and teleporting away.

"I can do more than teleport," grunted Twitch, standing far away from them confidently. He pulled out a new knife, twirling it casually. "I'm like a glitch in the system, a bug. I don't exist."

Simo fired a round, surprising Twitch greatly. He flashed, but he now had a small cut on his cheek from the bullet passing by his head.

"Your power has limits," noted the sniper coldly. "You're likely already tired from the fight so far. And we're only just beginning."

Twitch paused, dabbing his index finger on the cut on his cheek. He examined the blood, an eyebrow raised in surprise.

"Huh…odd…"

He then appeared right beside Simo, gripping his right arm in a death grip.

"It's this arm, isn't it?" inquired the rat man quietly.

Then he teleported away without altering his grip, taking Simo's arm with it.

The sniper screamed in pain, collapsing to his knees. He ripped the sleeve off his left arm, exposing a blue glowing mechanism wired directly into his upper arm. He gripped the gaping wound hard, three small lights on the mechanism glowing before all emptying. When he released his grip, the wound had sealed completely.

"Siege Charges can heal?!" yelled Mortem surprised.

"Yeah, that always could," spoke Simo. "This never came up though."

Suture kept attacking Twitch ferociously, spinning with an acrobatic flair no one thought he had. The rat man would dodge and sparingly flash when an attack would definitely hit him. Needless to say it was fairly broken in the terms of this story.

Then Suture detonated the blood inside his body, catching Twitch completely off guard and hitting him with the "shrapnel". That shrapnel was Suture's assorted bones, muscles and skin flying at 400 MPH, which makes pretty much anything a lethal projectile.

Twitch slammed into the floor, his upper torso and face riddled with holes. He was missing an eye and cheek, though he looked more annoyed than anything.

"Crackhead!" yelled the rat man. "Time to team up!"

The cocaine addict grinned, throwing Edward off him. "Right!"

Twitch teleported to him, pressing a hand gently against his arm.

Then they both teleported around the room, each tap by Twitch moving Crackhead with him.

"That's just not fair!" complained Mortem.

Crackhead appeared in front of her, slugging her in the face. The small Grave Knight slammed into a wall before two more fists hit her in the head, grinding her deeper into the concrete. Then he kicked her savagely, collapsing the wall and burying her in concrete.

"Don't care," he snapped turning to the others, cracking his neck.

"Mortem, you okay?!" yelled Lupus.

"I think his shoe size is Holy Fuck," grunted the Grave Knight, only one eye exposed to the open air.

"She's fine."

Crackhead then teleported to Hemera, grabbing her by the neck. Before he could do anything though, Edward rushed in, intercepting the fist that was coming down with his forehead.

Crackhead swore, gripping his sore fist. "Damn that hurt!"

"Yeah, not a wise move," grunted Edward, the blow still able to knock the sense out of him. He grew metal spikes from his fist and swung, stabbing the giant in the stomach with it.

Twitch teleported over to Vladimir to stop him from interfering, cutting the tendons on his sword arm with a simple slice. Teleporting back to his partner, he began to aid him fighting off Edward's assault.

"To think I get to fight the Syndicate members toe to toe! Dreams do come true!" shouted Crackhead.

Hemera then sped through, ripping the sledgeaxe from Crackhead's grip with ease. He paused in confusion a second before Suture appeared as well slicing off the fingers on his right hand with a blood blade.

"This is more of a nightmare," commented Lupus firing his guitar, now able to get a clear shot.

Twitch teleported and kicked the guitarist's guitar out of his hands, bending and twisting to confuse his opponent.

Lupus reached out and stabbed him in the chest with a knife, pulling out a grenade with his other hand. He ripped the pin out with his thumb, holding up the explosive to grin.

"What you gonna do now?" asked the guitarist, making sure he had the knife gripped as hard as he could and pushing it further.

Twitch's eyes widened, trying to flash but unable to due to his opponent actually injuring him. He swore, then teleported them both away without the grenade.

Lupus then shoved him away, drawing a new guitar from his SDU. He began swinging, the guitar playing blaring sounds with each swing to disorient and nauseate the rat man.

Twitch puked slightly, but managed to keep dodging despite this. He couldn't teleport though, as his head wasn't clear enough and he was growing tired.

"Crackhead!" shouted the rat man. "We can't keep going like this!"

The cocaine addict burst into laughter, finding the comment hilarious. "Seriously?! I'm doing great! Why should we go now?!"

Edward slammed both of his feet into the ground, his entire body turning into metal. He began increasing his mass and density exponentially, the ground beneath him shuddering and beginning to crumble.

He then slammed a fist into Crackhead's torso, throwing him all the way across the room with ease.

Crackhead grunted, climbing out of the wall. "Huh, you might have a point. This shit ain't worth it. Let's get out of here."

"No you don't!" snapped Edward. His anger began to rise, two more arms sprouting out of his sides. "I am sick and tired of just sitting around!"

"Captain! Stop!" ordered Vladimir. "They're giving us the aid package!"

"I don't give a shit if they're giving us AIDS or whatever, I'm winning this fight!" roared the Metal Titan, the blood rage from the battle taking over his mind.

Suture then shot him with a blood bullet, the explosive force knocking him off his feet. He glared at the surgeon, eyes full of hate.

"Doc, I will kill you if you intervene," warned Edward.

"Oh shut up," snapped the surgeon. "Our objective is to get that package. I like eating thank you, so I'm taking it."

Crackhead grinned. "I like these guys. They remind me of our gang."

"Don't think about it," murmured Twitch. "We'll meet again."

They teleported away, revealing that the giant aid package was in the corner of the room. It was still fairly full of the backpack supplies, only a few missing from the fall.

Edward stood, shaking his head to clear it. He sighed, beginning to come down from his high. "Ugh…I feel…odd. There's something down here…it's fucking with my head…"

"That explains your anger," murmured Vladimir. "Normally even you don't indulge that much. We need to leave before it gets worse."

"Is anyone ever going to get me out of here?" asked Mortem quietly, still stuck in the pile of concrete.

"I'm still missing an arm," murmured Simo.

"Why is it only your team got hurt?" inquired Hemera nastily.

"Shut up and help them," ordered Edward.

**[Richard McGuinness] "Yeah bitch! Shut the fuck up!"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "You know she can't hear you right? The mic is off."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Oh thank God! I'm scared shitless of that bitch."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "…the mic was on then."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Damn this stupid fucking bullshit equipment!"**


	13. Chapter 13: Davis Dahmer

Eddy Tsar grinned widely at the video footage at what had happened that day, absolutely ecstatic. So many people had died over his supplies that day, far more than he had anticipated. His ratings would go through the roof after this one, he was sure of it.

He laid back, sighing contently. He shoveled another fistful of Doritos into his gaping maw, chomping loudly. "Man, this is the life. Power, money, and all the footage I could ever watch. Everything's good."

"Oh really? That's intriguing."

He spat out his chips, whirling his chair around and holding up a firearm. Two people were inside his room, unannounced people.

"Damn you Davis Dahmer," snapped Ed putting down the gun. "My secretary still didn't see you, even with your little friend."

The man, Davis Dahmer, smiled pleasantly. He was dressed simply, white shirt and blue jeans, like a man on a Sunday walk. Only the piercings all over his body and cold emotionless eyes revealed he was more than he seemed. His smile was augmented by two long scars out of the corners of his mouth, though he had them sealed with two carefully placed piercings to prevent them from opening. "Well, most people don't notice me Mr. Tsar. They notice my masterpiece though."

He gestured to the female next to him, his right hand gripping a leash. The leash was bound to her neck and her hands tied behind her back, keeping her from running. She was wearing uncomfortably high heels and little else, only a few scraps of clothing covering her sensitive parts. Her mouth and eyes were obstructed with thick leather, preventing her from seeing or speaking. That was not the alarming part though.

The woman had several extremely large blades embedded all throughout her body, like she had been turned into a human pincushion. There was no blood or pus indicating they were open wounds, each blade completely clean. They were arranged in a remarkably complex fashion all across her body, small bells attached to each one that ringed just from her breathing.

"Beautiful, is she not?" asked Davis Dahmer, his voice holding undertones of pride. "One of my finest creations. Jasmine Walker was another average female until I found her, and I made her this…masterpiece. It took a long time, but it was all worth it. Do you like her Mr. Tsar?"

He kissed her gently on the neck affectionately, the woman making a noise that sounded similar to crying.

Eddy scowled, not even bothering to hide his disgust. "You damn Deviants and your odd habits...it's any wonder the other prisoners don't kill you."

"Oh, I'm not too worried Mr. Tsar," murmured Davis. "By the way, it appears we have new guests. A lot of new guests actually."

Eddy gulped. "Yeah…I'm doing a competition with some outside civilians."

"Really? I was not informed."

"Well you…weren't supposed to be involved."

Davis widened his smile, but it was obvious he didn't mean any of it. "Why so Mr. Tsar?"

"…look, getting people killed can be easily written off, but what you people do…I'd never be able get a lawyer to defend that."

Davis paused for thought, sticking out his tongue and playing with his ball piercing over his lips. "Perhaps…but who would ever say it would be released? You could simply uninstall the cameras in my gang's quarters."

"And risk a riot?" snapped Eddy. "I'm not stupid. You're all hardened criminals, and you'd break out the first chance you could."

"Why?" asked Davis logically. "We have food, shelter, and endless people for what my group does. This place…Sweeney City…it's a kingdom of heaven for us Deviants."

Eddy waved his hand dismissively. "No is no. The five weeks have been planned out. First are the Junkies, then the Octanes. After that it's the Professionals, the Zealots and then the Anarchists. I simply don't have room for you."

Davis sighed. "I really wasn't asking for permission. My group has been…liberating people over the last few days. Small numbers of course, not enough to warrant suspicion. If we want something, we're going to get it. We are criminals after all."

Eddy snarled. "Now listen here you goddamn raping hedonists…"

"You listen Mr. Tsar," snapped Davis without breaking his calm and polite exterior, still smiling even. "First, I appall foul language, and would prefer if you did not use it around me or my masterpiece. Second, there is nothing you say that will prevent my group or me from purging our evil. We Deviants exist to gratify ourselves however we see fit. Everyone else in this world exists only as a conduit for us to do so through. If you choose to forget that detail, I will release Hell's demons upon thee."

Eddy's eyes widened. "No way…you can't possibly have the key to that asylum. I have all of them."

"I have one. The Clowns are so funny, don't you agree? The most notorious gang, and yet no one's seen them in years ever since you locked them up in solitary. And yet…every door still has a key that can unlock it. Do you really want them back Mr. Tsar?"

Eddy gripped the arms of his chair tightly, remembering the way the Clowns had terrorized the other gangs for years. They possessed some of the most powerful and dangerous criminals in all of Sweeney City. It was rumored some of them could even fight his Eridian guards, though nothing had ever actually come to support that claim.

"…I won't stop your current activities," spoke Eddy finally, weighing his options. "I still can't fit you into these five weeks though. I'd be in a massive load of s…trouble if I took back my word. You can just use the stragglers you find wandering off from the safe houses. In return…I'll drop a few supply containers nearby to lure more people towards your headquarters. Sound fair?"

"Definitely," stated Davis, his smile now legitimate. "I appreciate the diplomatic head you have on those shoulders Mr. Tsar. Your effort to aid our purging is both wise and treasured by us all."

He clasped both hands over his heart, bowing his head like he was praying. Then he walked off, dragging his 'masterpiece' with him.

As soon as the man left, Eddy Tsar frantically puked into a bucket, panting from absolute terror. He had met numerous thieves, murderers and psychopaths alike, but nothing compared to meeting a Deviant. Their calm demeanor hiding such a vicious and disgusting person underneath was exponentially worse for him, as he knew the crimes each one was convicted of. He couldn't even imagine how someone could hide traits like that with such ease.

"Of course Davis runs them," murmured Eddy. "That fucking psycho's the worst of them all, by far."

**[Richard McGuinness] "What did Davis do anyway?"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "What do you think? He's a Sexual Deviant. Take a few guesses."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Oh…oh…"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Yeah, it's pretty bad. I read halfway through the file before I couldn't read anymore. Those guys aren't fun. They make Masher look like a Boy Scout."**


	14. Chapter 14: Curb Stomp Bar

Dr. Ivanlove strode into the Curb Stomp Bar with a wide grin, flamboyantly dressed in one of his "Daddy" outfits. He looked like a kind of transvestite pimp, all jewelry and fur across his body but still exposing large amounts of skin. He had heels on, but the firearms from them were missing. Firearms were forbidden in the bar.

"Such an interesting little place," he murmured sitting down with some of his gang, not at all worried. "A community bar for all to gather…I like it. Restores a sense of camaraderie among us criminals."

A man strode over, a man wearing a tight orange jumpsuit with skid marks all across it. He was holding a bottle of champagne and grinning widely, though he appeared friendly.

"Evening good Doctor!" exclaimed the man, standing a healthy distance away from the table. Protocol was that no one approached another party without invitation or revoked their rights to breathe.

"Evening to you as well Mr. Nitro," spoke Dr. Ivanlove. "You still haven't gotten my name right, but that's forgivable due to your criminal youth. Why do you come to me?"

"Well I came to offer you a bottle of champagne good sir! As a neighborly…thing!"

One of Dr. Ivanlove's men checked the bottle, drinking a small amount of it. After five minutes of not dying, he determined it was alright to drink.

"Thank you very much Mr. Nitro," said Dr. Ivanlove sincerely. He raised his glass. "A toast to the Octanes. May your races be long and your wheels always hot."

"Amen to that brother…sister…person!" yelled Nitro gulping his glass down. He sighed, grinning. "Well, I'm going back to my table! Thank you for your time!"

"No problem at all my friend."

Dr. Ivanlove laid back, analyzing Nitro. He had only arrived a few weeks ago and had already formed one of the most powerful gangs. They built cars out of nothing and raced them in the large infrastructure built throughout the prison's underbelly. Since they did little else and they were always friendly, most gangs didn't mind their presence.

Three more men stepped forward, each one extremely intimidating in their own way. One man wore a simple tuxedo, but the huge array of scars all around his body made him look like he had been through garbage disposal. The second man was dressed very similar to Alan Fitzgerald, his attire nearly identical to a Church priest, along with two bayonets triple the size of Alan's. The third appeared to be on fire, his upper torso and head covered in yellow flames, but no burnt skin anywhere.

"Greetings," spoke the tuxedo man.

"My humble greetings to you, the great Dr. Ivanlove," stated the priest.

"Sup Doc?" asked the fiery man.

Dr. Ivanlove smiled. "Before me stand the leaders of the Professionals, Zealots, and Anarchists. Ready to start the war before it even begins?"

"No," answered the Professional, the calmest of the group. "Here to warn you."

"We may be enemies in this competition, but we are all criminals here," stated the Zealot. "As such, we all have our honor."

"The Deviants are getting antsy Doc," grunted the Anarchist, grinning widely to expose he was literally breathing flames. "Something's up with them."

Dr. Ivanlove scowled. Out of all the gangs, the Deviants were his least favorite. He tolerated of a lot of crimes, but rape was not one of them. "What are they proposing? They aren't part of this competition."

"They want to join," spoke the Professional. They all sat down now, in serious conversation.

"Such heathens don't deserve to breathe, let alone reside in this prison," grunted the Zealot.

"I ain't one for damning people, but even I hate them," snapped the Anarchist. "And if they start getting active again, we're all in the shit."

Dr. Ivanlove sipped his champagne. "I'd prefer not starting another gang war. We had one against the Clowns, and Eddy had to step in for that one. We all remember The Night."

The four people at the table shivered, each one recalling The Night with absolute clarity. During the Clown's reign of terror in the prison, Eddy Tsar was forced to release the Eridian guards constantly for days on end to round them up. Prison population decreased by almost 80%, and any who survived would never forget the horror they had witnessed. Many had already tried.

"Why can't those idiots just stick to themselves?" grunted the Anarchist. "It ain't like they don't have enough masowhatevers to satisfy their fucked-up fantasies."

"Well that's a cute idea, but we're running a bit low you see."

They all turned, noticing that Davis Dahmer had appeared nearby, entering without anyone noticing. He did not have any of his 'masterpieces' with him for once, though his associates were all heavily pierced individuals like himself.

"It's rather simple really," murmured Davis. "A masochist experiences the pain like an adrenaline rush, quickly becoming addicted to it. Eventually, they wonder what the other side feels like, and become a sadist. Unfortunately, it tends to not work in reverse from what I see. So we have all sadists and no masochists. Not a good mix."

The Anarchist spat on the table, standing up. "Well that's funny. So you're just a fucking sadist now? No masochistic tendencies? I thought you liked pain, you sick fucker?"

He grabbed the two piercings keeping Davis's Glasgow grin closed, ripping them off along with a small chunk of bloody skin. He smirked. "So did you like that? Did that feel good you cock-sucker?"

**[Richard McGuinness] "Damn that looks painful."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "You said it. I winced."**

Davis paused, then grinned extremely wide with his eyes full of ecstatic glee. "No, that felt great."

The Anarchist stopped dead, Davis immediately striking. He stabbed his middle fingers into the cheeks of the Anarchist, burrowing through the skin with ease. He hooked him in, staring lovingly into his eyes.

"There's no love in your violence," whispered Davis before savagely kicking him in the chest, shoving him backwards. This caused his fingers to tear straight through his cheeks and take a huge chunk out of them, the Anarchist collapsing onto the table.

"Zodd!" screamed the Zealot, hurriedly clamping a napkin over the bleeding wound. While the Anarchist appeared to be on fire, he only actually burned things when he wanted to.

"Shou fooking basterd…" murmured Zodd the Anarchist, finding it hard to speak without cheeks.

"I recommend a trip to a hospital," spoke Davis, still absolutely friendly. He pointed to his Glasgow grin. "Otherwise you'll look like me. Also, try not to swear so much. It makes you look ugly."

Dr. Ivanlove narrowed his eyes, pulling out a massive revolver from his sleeve. "Violence is not allowed in this place."

"Neither are firearms," argued Davis.

"The difference is, I haven't used my gun yet. You used your weapon already."

Davis paused. "Hmm, fair enough. I have always been told I have magic fingers."

He stuck his middle fingers into his mouth, swallowing the blood and flesh collected on them. His eyes rolled back into his head, pleasure coursing through his body.

"I never considered myself a cannibal, but flesh soaked in pain always has the best taste," whispered Davis.

The Professional made a slashing motion across his throat. "Enjoy that meal. You'll be eating with the Devil soon enough."

"Oh, I heard he has excellent wine. I'd gladly go to him."

Davis turned and walked off, exiting the bar quickly.

"You alright Zodd?" asked Dr. Ivanlove.

"Ah chorse not shu fooking idjut," snapped Zodd angrily. He winced, standing up. "Joing to she doctah naw."

He walked off with his group, the Professional and Zealot remaining with Dr. Ivanlove.

"Is Davis insane?" inquired the Professional. "He's making a lot of enemies."

"He's planning something," murmured the Zealot. "God forbid whatever that heathen thinks up."

"Whatever it is, we need to be on our toes," spoke Dr. Ivanlove. "I never get good feelings around Davis. Unlike most of us, he deserves to be locked away with no key."


	15. Chapter 15: Asmodeus

Edward slammed his fists into the desk, nearly shattering it with the immense force. "I want to fight them damn it!"

"No need to yell Mr. the Kidd, I'm right here," spoke Dr. Ivanlove calmly.

"I don't care! Those fuckfaces Twitch and Crackhead left, and I want a rematch! I also want to mess up that Mary Jane bitch while I'm at it! Those last two fights I had sucked!"

Dr. Ivanlove sighed. "Listen, it's not like we know their locations and can just broadcast it to you. As long as they're in their fortress, we can't get to them."

Edward snarled, backing off slightly. Vladimir Cain was nearby to control his captain in case he did something profoundly stupid, but otherwise did nothing else.

"You think they'll attack tonight?" asked Edward hopefully. "I grow antsy."

"Well keep those ants in your pants," snapped Dr. Ivanlove. "I hope they do. To be honest, I grow bored as well. I'd love to have another fight with Ms. Jane. The last time we fought was during The Night, and that was a great one."

He paused, noticing something out of the window. He moved the curtains, staring through the bulletproof glass.

"Is that fog?" inquired Edward. "How the hell do we have fog? There's no rain."

Dr. Ivanlove smirked. "They're attacking now. That's Jane's signature style."

He immediately hit the big red button on his wall, sounding the alarm. He spoke into the intercom clearly and loudly, making sure everyone understood him.

"Listen up! The Junkies are attacking right now! Get your weapons and resist any invaders! Show no mercy, for you shall receive none in turn!"

He grinned. "Oh, and have fun."

* * *

Simo Hathcock sat quietly at the line of people outside, holding a rifle in his hand to spot any new enemies. They had a whole team of spotters all across the building's exterior, each one assigned a fire team to kill any person they saw.

"This fog is so thick you could put it on a sandwich," he murmured. "And…I'm seeing things. Like vague silhouettes."

"Jane apparently absorbs people she kills into the fog," explained Hemera. "Those silhouettes are them."

"That's eerie, even by my standards," grunted Mortem.

Suddenly Edward leaned forward, hearing something in the distance. "Huh? Anyone else hear that?"

Indeed they could. It was a quiet song, its notes heavily distorted and twisted. Only after a second did he register what it was.

"That's Croix Sonore," whispered Edward. For a second, his eyes went completely blank,

Vladimir put a hand on his captain's shoulder. "Sir, remain calm…"

The effort was useless. Edward screamed in raw rage, startling all of them. He tackled through them, sprinting through it into the street. He charged in the direction he determined the song was coming from, the fog parting for him.

"Damn it," grunted Vladimir running after his captain, his massive sword on his shoulder.

"Get back here you idiots!" shouted Hemera.

"This isn't good," noted Jackal.

"Here they come!" warned Simo. "Whoa…that's a lot."

From the fog came small floating lights, all of them in pairs. Only after a second did these lights reveal themselves to be eyes, contained in featureless heads on blank bodies. They looked like the creatures in the sewers, albeit far simpler in design and having no indication they were actually alive.

They stormed the building in the thousands, running right to them.

"Open fire!" ordered Dr. Ivanlove, though his voice was quickly lost after the first syllable. The entire building was racked with gunshots, every person emptying their magazines at the tide of bodies coming towards them.

"Get some! Get some!" shouted Mortem, loving the kick of her machine gun. "God, no wonder Alan loves this job so much!"

Suture slit his wrists, throwing his blood onto the ground in front of them. He created a barricade of bloody spikes, the Junkies running right into it blindly. There was so many however, they simply climbed over their brother's bodies, barely slowing them down.

Lupus leaped forward, strutting his guitar wildly. Each note shook the ground, flying in front of him in waves. Each note made the Junkies fly into the air as if propelled by springs, smashing into pieces on the way down. However, their bodies were made of mist and simply grew back into place, allowing them to continue.

"Everyone, duck," warned Jackal Cash readying his pistols.

They complied and he began blasting the crowds away, each shot like a freight train in size and force. He was sweating profusely, the stress of the situation clearly getting to him. No matter how hard he hit, he couldn't keep them from regenerating.

"They're unstoppable!" he yelled, never experiencing this kind of fear before. So that's what it was like facing him…

Suddenly they heard something rise from the top of the building, all of them glancing up to see it. Even the creatures stopped, startled by what was going on.

Dr. Ivanlove was standing on top of the building, spotlights surrounding him dramatically. He was holding a stripper pole placed vertically next to him, smiling mischievously.

**[Richard McGuinness] "That's never a good sign."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "True that."**

"Good evening!" yelled Dr. Ivanlove. "I know you're out there Mary Jane, so I wanted to personally say hello before we get started! If this is only the first week, we're into a great damn start if I do say so myself! So I figured since you showed what you do, it's time to show off what I can do!"

Loud pressing music emitted from speakers all around the building, Dr. Ivanlove twirling around the pole slowly. He then begin to dance, using expert moves that would put most professionals to shame.

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "God…damn."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Quit staring so hard! Jesus, you're fogging the screen!"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "But come on! This is the best fanservice we got!"**

**[Richard McGuinness] "What fanservice?! This is written!"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Oh, right."**

The other Fags cheered their leader on, most of the other people staring in shock.

"…I have the hardest lady boner right now," murmured Mortem.

"For once, we can agree on something," grunted Hemera.

"Wow, even my ex didn't move like that," spoke Jackal.

Dr. Ivanlove then ripped off his shirt, exposing that he was bare from the top up and the painted lines all over his body, clearly trying to emulate the subtle curves of the female body. He licked his lips, spinning around the pole completely off his feet. As he moved, the lines began to glow, turning purple and then blue and finally on white.

"Go and lust freely!" he roared, as if commanding someone. "Asmodeus!"

A massive black hand ripped its way through the ground, startling everyone and throwing them to the ground. The hand was covered in scales and thorns, completely inhuman in nature and design. It had jewelry all over it, made of all precious metals of the earth and with every gemstone known to man.

The hand twisted and swatted the creatures away in a huge arc, each one bursting into infernal flames as soon as they were hit. Four more hands joined in, forming a pentagon around the building and protecting it from harm. The hands moved far faster than would've been expecting, kicking up hurricane force winds from their speed.

"Where the hell do we find these people?!" screamed Mortem.

Dr. Ivanlove was laughing as he danced, apparently controlling the demonic hands with his gestures. Each flick of his foot/hand/hair seemed to cause them to alter their direction, and due to his speed he could easily control each one. Of course it was entirely likely his dance was just for show and the hands were guided autonomously, but that makes for boring storytelling, doesn't it?

The hordes of creatures began to slow down, their user apparently tired of seeing them die over and over again. Finally, they ceased entirely.

The hands slowly slid back into the earth, releasing a final burst of heat before disappearing from sight.

Dr. Ivanlove was panting, absolutely exhausted from his dancing. "Wow…I forgot how hard that routine was. These old bones need more work."

"Yahoo!" cheered Mortem throwing wads of money at him, absolutely crushing on him. "Encore! Encore! I'll pay you to get rid of those pants too!"

"Don't you have any shame?" asked Hemera.

"That question was so rhetorical I think I puked a little!"

A heavy explosion shook the area, startling them all back into reality. It sounded similar to the feedback you get from putting a microphone too close to a live speaker, and was extremely unpleasant.

"Huh…that's not any of the Junkies," noted Dr. Ivanlove.

"That's Edward and Croix Sonore," spoke Jackal.

"Should we help?" inquired Simo.

"Unless you want to die. Edward isn't in control of himself right now. He'd kill everyone around him right now, and he likely will."


	16. Chapter 16: Heads Will Roll

Edward the Kidd charged down the streets, each step shattering the asphalt from his body turning into metal. He was screaming at the top of his lungs, blindly chasing down the noise he was hearing.

"CROIX SONORE!" he roared, shattering the side of a building simply by hitting his arm against it, possessing great force from his speed.

He slid to a stop, noticing two people at the end of the street. The first man was massive and carried a humongous blade for his right arm, the blade so big it extended behind him on the ground. The second was small and wore headphones, his hands deep in his pockets.

"Is that you Croix?" demanded Edward in a snarl.

"Huh?" asked Croix Sonore. He then smiled, noticing his old comrade. "Stupid question, yet again Edward. Honestly, when did you become such an idiot?"

Edward's eyes turned to steel, his rage building rapidly. The street below him began to shake, his magnetism powers affecting everything around him.

Then he exploded, his anger so volatile it became combustible, melting the street below him from the sheer heat.

"CROIX SONORE!" he screamed, the buildings shuddering from his powers.

Then he teleported right in front of him, smacking Croix down the street with a single kick.

Wallace spun and attacked him, only for another sword to block his own.

"Hello Marshall," spoke Vladimir calmly.

Wallace grinned sadistically, recognizing the man. "Hello Wicked Cain. Still sore over what I did?"

"Unbelievably. You will not escape this place alive."

"That's what you think."

Edward glared at Croix's limp body before dashing to it, kicking it into a building with enough force to destroy the building. He ripped his way through the rubble and threw him again, trying to crush the life out of the traitor.

Croix then leaped onto his feet, slamming his boot into the ground. Edward's ears instantly popped and shattered, his equilibrium shot completely to hell. He stumbled, his rage unable to allow him to stay balanced.

"Oh how I missed our little spats," spoke Croix. "Still mad about what I did to your wife? Huh, makes sense. I'd certainly be a bit mad if someone I trusted with all my heart brutally murdered my spouse right in front of me. I think I understand."

Edward, as soon as those words were spoken, immediately roared with even more anger. He then flew at his opponent, nailing him with an upper cut that sent him soaring into a building.

Edward tightened his fists, compacting the building's steel beams into a ball. He did so with notable ease, as if he was crushing a soda can. He made it half the size, and then a quarter, until finally he had compacted the building into a tenth of its size.

Three notes were played in quick succession, the ball shattering into pieces. Croix Sonore walked out of the rubble, adjusting his headphones.

"Music is really amazing isn't it?" inquired Croix. "Tames the wild beasts and all. Also cuts through buildings, but that feature is often overlooked."

He then screamed, ripping through the street with megaton winds. Edward grunted as he tried to stand his ground, nearly being thrown off his feet. He slammed his hands into the ground, rooting himself in place.

Edward began to crawl slowly to him through the screaming, only to begin stomping to him with no trouble at all. Finally he began running right through it, screaming back with no reservation.

Croix's eyes widened a millisecond before Edward head-butted him, shattering his nose with ease. He took a step back, swinging his fist and hitting the Metal Titan in the shoulder.

This released an arc of pure sound that severed his arm clean off, leaving Edward with a melted shoulder.

Edward grew a tendril from the liquid metal, screaming in pain and hatred as real blood poured from the wound. Obviously his regeneration was just as painful as Dion's, perhaps even more so considering it involved metal in his veins.

He extended the tendril to Croix, the vine exploding into metal spikes and thorns that filled the street. Croix spun rapidly, emitting sound waves to destroy any that got too close, only to be overwhelmed and flooded with a tide of liquid metal.

Edward made the tendril grow upwards in a pillar shape, pouring more of his body into it. When it reached several stories high he ripped his arm out of the tendril, slamming his palms together.

He roared as blood gushed from his fingers, the pillar sprouting enormous spikes all through it, impaling everything inside like an iron maiden. Edward grunted, panting from exhaustion.

"That…should've done it…" he whispered.

He heard a slow tapping, like water dripping from a faucet. He paused, glancing at the pillar. The hardened metal was shuddering, shaking the street below it. His eyes widened.

"But that was molten steel…just what is he?"

The pillar ruptured, opening up like a metallic flower into the sky. In the center was Croix Sonore, his arms bent in a position very similar to a DJ. He was bopping on his feet in time to his music, which was so loud Edward could hear it even from dozens of meters away.

Suddenly Croix appeared in front of him, slashing through his chest with the sole of his boot. He felt metal and blood fly from the wound, backing up instinctively.

Croix unleashed an onslaught of kicks and swipes, his feet apparently enchanted with his sound waves to gain an extreme cutting edge. It also had the debilitating effect of destroying his organs, rupturing several of them like grapes.

"Just like before, you're weak!" taunted Croix mid-attack, grinning sadistically. "It's amazing this nuisance managed to become the top bounty in the universe! I can't believe it personally!"

He topped his assault off with a kick to the chin, nearly decapitating Edward and sending him to the floor. He sighed, kneeling down to whisper to him. He even turned down his music to mute, making sure he heard him.

"It's too bad, but it's to be expected, isn't it old friend?" inquired Croix. "Just like when your wife died…you were too weak to stop me. I killed her old friend. You watched me, and yet you couldn't stop me. Huh. Guess things don't change eh?"

Suddenly Croix shuddered, his body twitching violently. He looked at his hands, astonished at the feeling he had pumping through his body. It felt like every atom of his being was being pulled upwards by some unseen puppet master.

"What's happening?" he wondered aloud.

"Blood's magnetic you son of a bitch," snapped Edward. His voice was so full of hatred it didn't even sound like Edward anymore, his mind so concentrated on the single goal of killing his nemesis.

He snapped his hand up, Croix flying towards the fake ceiling around Sweeny City. The musician flew through the roof and broke the sound barrier, flying towards the only object in the sky.

Croix Sonore hit the planet's moon at Mach 25, the same speed that space shuttles require to actually reach outer space.

Edward flicked his hand again, yanking the musician back down even faster. Croix's body was lit on fire from re-entry, brightening the sky with the immense glow of his body.

Croix slammed into Sweeney City again, demolishing several city blocks with the force. The entire prison felt the shudder of his impact, a miniature earthquake emitting around the area.

Croix Sonore lay next to Edward, the two of them now in a massive crater. Croix's body was burnt almost to ashes, several parts of his body not even present any longer. Still, he was breathing faintly, staring blankly at Edward.

"Not…good…enough…" whispered Croix. "You will…never kill me…just like…I can't kill…you…"

Edward groaned in agony, the energy from doing such a powerful attack consuming him. He tried to sit up, only to collapse again.

"I'll…never…stop…" snapped Edward, his words full of venomous rage. "Till…you…die…"

Then he fainted, his body too exhausted to even keep him conscious.

Croix grunted contently, then passed out as well. His right arm and leg flew into dust in the wind, but he did not die.

Wallace sprinted over hurriedly, half of his blade chopped off from some extremely powerful cut. "Croix! You alive!?"

"Captain!" yelled Vladimir jumping in, holding his sword. Obviously it had been him who had cut Wallace's sword.

The two of them stood facing each other, their comrade's body closer to their enemy. It was a standoff, and not a pleasant one.

"Listen, I don't like you and you don't like me," snapped Wallace. "But if we wait any longer, they're both going to die. So way I see it, we both take our friends and leave."

"…that is acceptable," spoke Vladimir.

They slowly walked past each other, grabbing their comrade's and placing them on their shoulders.

"Come on you music-playing idiot," grunted Wallace hefting Croix's charred body. "Jesus, this is worse than last time."

"Captain's injuries are critical," whispered Vladimir, astonished at the blood everywhere from Edward's body, as well as the massive contusions over his torso. The two of them truly were monsters.

They both ran off with their partner's on their backs, hoping they got to a hospital or treatment room of some kind in time.

**[Richard McGuiness] "Okay, how the FUCK did they survive?! Edward I can understand, being a Titan and all, but what the hell is Croix made of? Motherfucking adamantium?!"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "He's not human Rich. No one in this story abides by human logic."**

**[Richard McGuiness] "But still! I mean…Mach 25? Really?! When did this story get so damn crazy?"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "I'd say since the first DLC really."**


	17. Chapter 17: Punch Out

Dr. Ivanlove strode down from the roof confidently, carrying the pole he had used earlier in his hands.

"Oh come on Mary Jane!" he yelled through the fog. "I know you're ready to play! Come on out! I'm itching for a good time! Don't leave Daddy all high and dry!"

Suddenly the fog thickened, everyone's view obscuring. The fog turned to smoke, suffocating and black as midnight. Everyone began to cough, trying to find one another in the haze.

Finally the smoke cleared, revealing only a handful of people were left. It was…basically all plot important characters. If you hadn't guessed who, you clearly need to pay better attention.

"Huh, intriguing," noted Dr. Ivanlove. "Is this a boxing ring?"

"Indeed," spoke a voice from the other corner.

They all turned, noticing three combatants in the opposing corner of the ring. Twitch and Crackhead were standing beside Mary Jane, both wearing their standard outfits. She was seated on a stool calmly, wearing a long black fur robe very similar to what boxers wore before a match. She even had bright red boxing gloves on, apparently deciding to cosplay while she was at it.

"I decided a more private arena was fitting," explained the female leader. "I like it personally."

"Yeah, same," agreed Dr. Ivanlove. "Very fitting."

Crackhead then charged the group, surprising the living hell out of everyone involved. He tackled Jackal Cash and Hemera clean off the stage, knocking them through the floor and into the story below.

"Perfect timing Crackhead, as usual," complimented Mary.

Twitch teleported over to the others and touched all of them, teleporting them away while he was at it. This left only Dr. Ivanlove and Mary Jane in the boxing ring, facing one another.

"So, even after all this time, you still have some honor?" inquired Dr. Ivanlove.

"Of course. You taught me how to be a woman without being ashamed. I figured it was only fair I kill you in a fair fight."

"You'd really kill me."

She stood up, slamming her gloves together. "I only say that because you'd say the same back."

Dr. Ivanlove grinned, spinning his metal staff. "Yeah, you're right. Then I'll say it before, just like when you wanted to leave my gang."

He held up his hand, flicking his fingers. "Come at me bitch!"

* * *

Crackhead, carrying Hemera and Jackal, slammed into the floor a story below with immense force, nearly knocking all of them out in the process.

"Ow, bad idea," muttered the big guy.

Jackal aimed his pistol at his head, charging a blue shot. "You don't say?"

Crackhead snapped to the side and grabbed the gun barrel with his teeth. He bit straight through the gun, chewing the metal bits and swallowing them.

"Delicious," commented the brute.

Hemera emitted a huge blast of light, causing Crackhead to instinctively cover his eyes and let go of them. They both ran away to gain some distance, Jackal tossing aside his half-eaten pistol.

The four Vault Hunters fell several feet from where Twitch teleported from, the rat man appearing beside his partner with his knife out.

"Our boss wants a private fight, so we decided to fight down here," explaind Twitch. "Now don't be rude and interrupt her. She'd be super pissed at that."

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere," snapped Hemera. She cracked her knuckles. "I'm going to make you uglier you rat-faced bastard."

Crackhead charged at them again, no weapons at all. Lupus dashed in front of the group and stopped his fist with his guitar, releasing a foul note from the instrument.

"Ugh, bad rhythm," murmured the guitarist.

Crackhead grabbed the guitar and slugged Lupus in the face, knocking him clean off his feet and separating him from his instrument. Shattering it over his knee, he kept walking towards them.

Hemera sped around him in rapid circles, moving so fast her footsteps sounded like an engine whine. Crackhead collapsed to a knee as the oxygen was sucked out of the circle she was making, rapidly running out. Obviously his enhanced strength meant he had a higher oxygen intake level than most people, and needed it far more than they did.

Twitch teleported nearby and threw a cable wire over the floor, rooting it into the opposite wall. Hemera tripped over it and slid across the room, slamming through several pillars from the force she had been going at. She lay dazed on the floor, her right arm stuck in the rubble.

"Thanks," snapped the brute standing up.

Twitch flicked his wrist, the wire coming back to him. "No problem."

Mortem summoned several zombies from the ground, Zerg-rushing them as fast as possible. Crackhead began plowing through them with his fists, each one detonating into flying flesh and gore.

Then one of the zombies grabbed him and exploded, taking his right arm with it.

Crackhead roared in pain, slamming his knee into the ground to knock the rest of the zombies away. "Fuck! Fucking fuckity fuck, fuck!"

Twitch ran over, pulling out a jar of viscous gel colored like snot. He smeared it over the wound, releasing an extremely foul smell across the room. In a moment, the wound had stopped bleeding completely.

"Smells, but damn good," assured the rat-man.

"Hell yeah," grunted Crackhead. He picked up a slab of concrete on the ground the size of a basketball, easily able to hold it in his single hand.

He then leaped into the air and nearly caved in Simo's head, missing only by centimeters.

Suture detonated a blood bomb right next to him, throwing the brute back to clear some distance. He morphed what remained of side into a bloody array of spikes, tackling the brute and impaling him with numerous rods and blades.

Crackhead grunted and slammed the concrete into Suture's head, staggering the doctor and causing him to lose his concentration. He repeated it over and over again, the third blow splitting his skull open and the fifth splattering his brains across his arm. Suture fell to the ground, slowly regenerating back.

"Two down, four to go," taunted Twitch twirling his knife and cord.

* * *

Mary Jane narrowly missed her strike to Dr. Ivanlove's head, recovering quickly in a defensive stance. She kept her assault up, each punch making her step forward with machine-like precision. Obviously her boxer motif was not simply for show, considering she would've given Mohammed Ali a run for his money.

Dr. Ivanlove kept dodging her strikes, not able to get a blow in from the speed. He had anticipated a power spike from all the time they had spent away from each other, but this was ridiculous.

"You got stronger!" complimented Dr. Ivanlove.

Suddenly she feinted, going immediately from a high jab to a low swing. She hit him dead in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

Then a force behind her arm exploded, sending him flying from the ring and smashing into the wooden stands she had assembled.

"Damn right I did!" yelled Mary Jane, her glove literally smoking from the force. "Whenever I absorb someone, I take their strength and speed into my body! I've absorbed literally hundreds of people!"

Dr. Ivanlove picked himself up, ripping the splinters from his shoulders and arms. "I already knew that, but thanks for the reminder."

He spun his pole, the lines over his body glowing bright pink. He began spinning wildly, moving with wide flourishes.

"Asmodeus!" he screamed flaring out his right arm.

A portal opened up in the stands underneath him, a massive demonic arm barreling out of it towards Mary Jane.

She exponentially increased her mass and strength, punching the fist to stop it from hitting her. The arm disappeared, replaced by Dr. Ivanlove in a huge swing at her head.

She ducked and jabbed twice to dissuade him, each punch shooting a bullet of air behind it that tore through the ring.

Dr. Ivanlove did a high heel kick, an exact copy of one appearing from a portal below Mary Jane. It struck her in the jaw, knocking her towards the ceiling with the force.

Mary Jane punched the ceiling to force her way back down, spinning to increase the force she would have upon landing.

The doctor held up his left hand, a demonic one appearing behind him mimicking his movements. He flung it down, the massive puppet arm smashing Mary Jane into the floor, creating a hole.

He heard only silence for a moment, then a single punch. He paused, the punching growing more consistent and louder. Only when he felt his own arm get hotter.

Mary Jane emerged from the hole, punching the hand so ferociously and rapidly she was burning it with her fists. Her arms were blur as she tried to destroy it, not able to rest for a second or risk being crushed again.

Then with a mighty uppercut, she blasted clean through the hand, destroying its two central fingers in the process.

Ivanlove screamed as his own hand had the same injuries inflicted on it, a side-effect of his occult ability. He rationalized that the injury was not even close to lethal, but the loss of a digit would send him into shock. For the first few minutes he would be sweating profusely and get dizzy. After that, he would go into unconsciousness in an attempt to conserve blood.

Dr. Ivanlove hurriedly took one of the belts from his outfit and tied it over his wrist, making a makeshift tourniquet to at least slow the bleeding a little.

Mary Jane ran over to him and made a high swing, nearly taking his head off. She rapidly adjusted her style, turning into more selective punches instead of a full-on attack. Obviously she knew all she had to do was wait for him to bleed out and then go for a killing blow.

"Doctor, do you hate me?!" yelled Mary Jane.

Dr. Ivanlove blocked a strike with his metal pole, the question astonishing him. "What?! Of course not! You used to be one of my finest personal! Why do you think so?!"

"I would be angry if someone left my group! Were you?!"

"At first, yes! But now, not at all! You wanted to leave, and I respected your reasons!"

Mary Jane didn't let up her assault, but a small smile was now on her face. "Thank you doctor. For everything."

Dr. Ivanlove struck her in the temple, nearly knocking her off her feet. Spinning the staff, he smashed it right into her jaw, knocking her to the floor.

Mary Jane lay weakly on the floor, panting lowly. She wanted to get up, but her body was far too dazed to let her do so.

Dr. Ivanlove sighed, kneeling down quietly beside her. "Mary…I'm sorry if you ever thought I hated you. If you ever needed my help or just someone to talk to, never forget me. I will always be your friend and comrade."

He stood up, placing the pole on his shoulder and walking off.

Mary Jane got onto her stomach, gasping from the concussion she had received. She puked a bit on the ring, her knuckles white from pain.

"Oh my, there you are Ms. Jane. It's been so long."

She looked off to the side, her eyes widening. She noticed the long thin needle in the darkness, shining off the limited light.

She began to shake, trying to speak through the pain. "…oh God…not that…not you…!"

* * *

Simo reloaded his assault rifle hurriedly, already pumping the trigger. He was circling around Crackhead, who was engaged in melee combat with Lupus.

The guitarist ducked under the massive chunk of concrete and swung his axe, cleaving through his side and releasing a torrent of blood.

The brute kneed him in the chest, knocking him backwards. He then hit him in the face with the concrete ball, knocking him clean out with ease.

"Three down," snapped the brute, chuckling lowly.

"What's with you guys?!" yelled Mortem. "You're getting wrecked out here!"

"We don't have our shields," noted Simo. "Also, the New-U Station had a built-in regenerative system to help keep you alive. We don't have that either."

Jackal Cash tossed his pistol aside, cracking his knuckles. His skin rippled as blue light split through the cracks, expanding his muscles greatly.

"I'll take the big guy," spoke the cowboy. "Kill that rat-man for me."

He launched himself at Crackhead, actually managing to stop his charge. Even though he was far shorter and thinner, his power could enable him to fight on par with him for limited periods of time.

Simo began firing at Twitch, predicting his movements extremely accurate. While he could see his footprints a second before he actually teleported, he couldn't determine the stance or posture he was in that enabled him to dodge the bullets.

Twitch threw the wire knife at him, narrowly missing his face. The knife embedded itself in the wall behind him, rooting itself firmly in place.

The rat man tied a pole to the wire knife and retracted the wheel, dragging the pole right to Simo.

The sniper dodged, only for Twitch to throw a second knife into his stomach.

Simo grunted, but wrapped the wire around his wrist with a flick of his hand. He then yanked on it, knocking Twitch off his feet from the unexpected pull.

Mortem charged in, stabbing the rat man in the shoulder with a chunk of rebar. She then began to beat him senseless, swearing loudly with every punch.

"Rat…faced…mother…fucker…!" she screamed, blooding her fists significantly and denting in his face.

Eventually, Twitch had stopped moving or breathing. Mortem stopped, exhausted.

"Simo, you alright?" she asked standing up.

Simo slit the wire, keeping the knife in his chest to plug the wound. "I'll be fine. We need to finish this fight. The others don't have long."

Jackal was beginning to lose his power struggle with Crackhead, his arms wavering. The brute was actually shoving him down into the concrete with only his remaining hand, his body not collapsing but clearly desiring to.

"We trained extensively to kill you all!" snapped the brute. "And without that metallic bastard, it's even easier! Give in!"

Jackal blasted his energy out from his palms, stumbling Crackhead for a few seconds.

Mortem summoned a massive undead minion to grapple Crackhead, keeping him in place. The brute tried to escape, but even his strength was not enough.

Simo walked up and slammed the butt of his gun into his face, knocking him clean out. He sighed, adjusting his sunglasses tiredly.

"You didn't kill him?" inquired Mortem.

"I already explained I hate doing it," reminded Simo. "I did it back with Cassius's army because they choose to side with him. These men have no choice but to fight when ordered to. They don't deserve to die for that."

Jackal nodded, picking up his gun. "Let's get everyone back to the base. Hopefully Dr. Ivanlove has some supplies to help heal them."


	18. Chapter 18: Sweetness

"Nice job Doc!" cheered Zodd, his new stitches holding up greatly.

"Truly an exemplary show," complimented the Zealot.

"Nice job," spoke the Professional sincerely.

Dr. Ivanlove clinked their glasses together, smiling. He had decided to go to the Curb Stomp Bar to celebrate with his fellow criminals over the first week being over, as well as his defeat of Mary Jane. He was still healing from the broken ribs and various other injuries, but nothing would stop his celebration.

"It was a hard battle," he admitted, wincing at the flashes of pain his ribs gave him. "But I expected no less from my old gang member."

"So…uh Doc?" inquired Zodd. "Was Mary…uh…Marty once?"

"Oh certainly. Few injections, couple procedures, you'd never notice. One of my finest patients really. She turned into a beautiful woman."

"Huh…that's cool."

"Whether I approve of it or not is irrelevant," spoke the Zealot, the only religious man at the table. "Only God above is fit to judge us humans, and I am only a man, so I cannot predict how he will judge."

"No one asked you to approve or disapprove," snapped the Professional. "What people do to their bodies is their concern alone, no matter how illogical it may seem."

"I wasn't disagreeing with that statement."

"Whatever."

Two men began walking to the table, everyone at the table pausing. It was Twitch and Crackhead, still recovering from their injuries.

"Oh, hello gentlemen," said Dr. Ivanlove friendly. "No hard feelings I hope? That was part of the competition."

"These injuries are fine," snarled Crackhead.

He slammed his fists into the table, raising their glasses nearly six inches into the air. "Kidnapping my leader is not!"

Dr. Ivanlove's eyes widened in shock. "What?! What happened?!"

"So you didn't do it," murmured Twitch. "Ms. Jane was missing when we went to retrieve her from your fight. We can't find a trace of her in the sewers at all."

"Ain't nothing down there but the Octanes, and they'd tell you if they found her," noted Zodd.

"Obviously something or someone did, and I want to know who!" screamed Crackhead.

"Oh, that was me."

Everyone turned, noticing the least likely person present in the room.

"Davis," snarled Crackhead. He dared not approach him though, for fear of receiving a piercing needle through the brain. "What the hell do you know of this?!"

"Oh, quite a bit," explained the Deviant calmly. "I was present during the fight with Ms. Jane and Dr. Ivanlove. Quite a fight really. I must compliment you both on your fighting skills."

"What do you know of this Davis?" asked Dr. Ivanlove coldly. "Mary Jane is a friend and ally. More importantly, she's the number one source of drugs, both recreational and medicinal, in this city. If she died, we'd all be a lot worse off. So tell us where she is."

"Oh, certainly."

Davis clapped his hands loudly.

Some of his assistants came in, all of them dressed in leather BDSM outfits. They were dragging a large leather bag that was stained with blood in several large patches. They slammed it onto the table, knocking the glasses and assorted food everywhere.

Dr. Ivanlove ripped the bag apart from the seams, exposing the person inside. Then he gasped, a hand covering his mouth.

Mary Jane was naked in the bag, breathing faintly in deep unconsciousness. Her body was covered in piercings of every sort, each one still fresh from the day before. Some of them were still bleeding, implying Davis had only done it a few hours ago at the most. Even her face and genitals had not been spared, and in fact received some of the worst punishment.

The Zealot puked upon seeing what had been done, the Professional growing pale in horror. Zodd on the other hand, got furious.

"You fucking faggot nigger!" screamed the Anarchist grabbing Davis by the collar, his head's flames turning bright blue. "What kind of messed-up motherfucker are you?! Jesus Christ, look at her!"

"I know, she is beautiful," whispered Davis in awe, staring at Mary Jane. "I didn't get too many looks at her, but I definitely did not tarnish that beauty she has."

Dr. Ivanlove had tears in his eyes, a mixture of rage and sadness. He had even pierced some of the surgical scars from her procedure, as if mocking them.

"This is unacceptable," snapped the doctor. "We are criminals, but we have rules and honor to guide our hands."

"And you think those things control me?" inquired Davis with mild astonishment. "I have no such strings on me."

Zodd smirked, slamming handcuff's onto Davis's left wrist. He then dragged him over to a mounted bar stool, chaining him to the several ton bar.

"You kinda are though," stated the Anarchist far too calmly. "We'll gladly add our own strings to you, fucking freak."

He slugged the Deviant in the face, splitting his lip. Davis spat, glancing at him blankly.

"Please hit harder," begged Davis sincerely, his eyes wide. He licked his lips, coating his tongue with the blood.

Zodd grimaced. "Fuck. What kind of payment can we do to make up for this shit?"

"Kill him!" roared Crackhead. Only quick grabs from Twitch and the Zealot kept him at bay. "That asshole did this to my leader! I want him dead!"

"We can't," snapped the Professional.

"He's right," agreed Dr. Ivanlove reluctantly. "Davis has the keys to the Clowns on a dead-man's switch hooked up to his vital signs. The second he flat-lines, we have another breakout of those monsters on our hands. We need to think of something."

"I got an idea," spoke Davis.

"Better be nothing weird," grunted Zodd. "I want to enjoy this."

Davis smiled widely, pulling out a knife. "I despised cutting, but I propose it regardless."

Zodd laughed bitterly. "A couple fingers? Like the Yakuza?! Fuck that shit! You deserve far worse!"

"Oh, I agree. I wasn't proposing fingers."

He rolled out his tongue, exposing the long tip with a barbell at the end. "My sweet perception. The human tongue tastes sweet at the very tip. Cutting it off disables that sense."

Everyone balked at the idea.

"But you'd die!" protested the Zealot. "The tongue has the most blood in any part of the body minus the heart!"

"It's possible to stop the bleeding, but it's hard," noted Dr. Ivanlove.

"The bartender has blood bags I bet," explained Davis twirling his knife. "Besides, I can do it. I'm an expert at what the human body can endure, being a sadomasochist. So unless there are any other proposals, I'm going for it."

Davis put the knife to his tongue, yanking in the bell at the end to fully extend it. He began cutting, blood spewing immediately from the wound.

Davis's body tensed as the pain coursed through it, but his hands remained steady. He got to a third of the way through, slowly sawing away at the thick muscle through the tidal wave of blood that came with it.

"Look at his trousers," whispered the Zealot.

"He's enjoying it," grunted the Professional disgusted.

Davis got halfway through, his eyes lulling back into his head. He was breathing heavily through his mouth and nose, his legs actually shaking.

Then, with a mighty tear, he cut clean through, leaving him holding a bloody tip of his tongue.

"Goddamn, he did it," murmured Dr. Ivanlove.

Davis threw the tip at the doctor, splattering him with the gore. The doctor stiffened, astonished at the bold action.

The Deviant looked up, his face contorted in ecstasy. "Don't shwear Doshter Ivenloove…makes shou ugly…"

Dr. Ivanlove snarled, grabbing the tip of Davis's tongue off the table. He crushed it in his fist, blood drenching his hand and the table.

"Mark my words Davis, I will kill you," snapped the doctor.

* * *

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "So Rich, there's something we haven't seen a lot of in this story."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Logic?"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] ****"Fan questions! There haven't been anything for us to comment about yet!"**

**[Richard McGuinness] ****"Hey, you got a point! Listen viewers, we want some questions from you guys to answer! Anything really! Was Dr. Ivanlove first a man or a woman? Will Saprus and Taika tie the knot? Can we ever distinguish the difference between butter and I Can't Believe It's Not Butter? Find out, at the next episode of Dragonball Z!"**


	19. Chapter 19: Blaze It

"Yahoo, turn up!" yelled Mortem downing another beer, seated in a throne. This throne was composed of empty metal beer cases, having assembled them half-drunkenly during her binge session for no discernable reason other than that she could.

"900 beers," whispered Lupus amazed. "It's not possible."

"She's already dead, so she can't die from alcohol poisoning," murmured Suture. "And frankly, I don't even want to comprehend her anatomy. It makes my doctorate hurt."

"I'm fermenting motherfuckers!" shouted the Grave Knight. "Who knows? Maybe it'll spread to my breasts!"

"What breasts?" taunted Hemera.

"You're a girl?" asked Lupus with a grin.

She tackled the guitarist, strangling him rather well considering she was extremely intoxicated. "I am really going to kill you this time!"

Jackal ripped her off, grabbing her arms to stop her. "Come on Mortem, be easy. They're just playing."

"Playing?! Do I look like some kind of child?!"

"You want us answering that question?" inquired Hemera.

"Shove a lightbulb up your ass, Heliobitch!"

Edward suddenly walked in, apparently very irritated. He had bandages all across his torso from his fight with Croix, his injuries taking far longer to heal than normal. His right arm was in a sling as well, his last technique having atrophied all the muscles in it.

"I'm leaving," he said packing his bags.

"What?" asked Simo confused. "Like the shelter?"

"No, the competition. I got kicked out."

"What?!" exclaimed Jackal. "Why?!"

"Property damages," explained Vladimir walking in. "Eddy Tsar isn't going to take a risk that he'll destroy more of the city. He's also kicking out the two Watchdogs members as well."

"What about you Vlad?" asked Hemera.

"He did not punish me, but I chose to follow my captain."

"Now we're down two men," grunted Suture. "This isn't good."

"Not exactly," spoke Edward. He winced, sitting on his bed. "I contacted the Syndicate to send two replacements. They won't be as flashy as me, but they can fight."

"Who?" questioned Simo.

"Oi, dah fuck ya doing here biatch?!"

Mortem slammed her head onto the seat, groaning. "Oh my fucking God, please no."

"Oi, dat how ya talk to an old friend?" asked Vika Grieve stepping in, a long green coat over her body.

**Vika Grieve "Superstar": Hogging the Spotlight (Bounty: $479,000,000,000,000)**

A gasp was heard from the doorway, a green light emitting from the darkness. "No way! Hemera-sama!"

Hemera groaned, slapping her head into her hands. "Oh my fucking God, please no."

A humanoid figure tackled her suddenly, laughing loudly. She was wearing a dark black-colored suit with tubes filled with fluorescent green liquid all across her body. Her upper half of her face was obscured by a complicated set of goggles that emitted the same green color, apparently aiding her sight in incomprehensible ways.

"It's so great to see you Hemera-sama!" yelled the female. "I never dreamed I would work with you! I promise to do my best to please you!"

**Cecilia the Komodo "Dead Komodo": Little Clingy (Bounty: $420,420,420,420,420)**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Holy fuck, we got them all!"**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Yeah! That's all 16 Vault Hunters introduced! Yahoo!"**

"Why don't you please me by dying?" asked Hemera.

"Okay!" exclaimed the girl, pulling out a pistol and aiming it at her head.

"Whoa Cecilia!" warned Simo grabbing the gun. "She was playing!"

"Oh, okay then!"

"These are the replacements?" inquired Lupus skeptically. "A low-down beatneck and a moronic ninja bitch?"

"Who ya callin' a beatneck, ya grim-faced mascara-wearing mathafucka?" snapped Vika.

"No need for violence!" shouted Cecilia intervening. "I got a way for all of us to be happy!"

She pulled out a massive leather roll from her coat, slamming it onto the table dramatically. Unrolling it, she revealed that it was a giant pile of marijuana surrounded by dozens of sheets of rolling paper as well as a few lighters.

Lupus began to drool, his eyes wide in astonishment. "Oh…you can stay."

"Work, Kill, Fuck, Play, Smoke Weed Every Day!" roared Mortem immediately rolling one. "I love this new girl!"

"Well I never like you people anyway," grunted Edward with a sarcastic smile. "Hand me one."

"Better not be laced," murmured Jackal reaching for one.

* * *

"So dude, I'm just saying, Gandhi would totally kick the fuck out of Buddha's ass if they fought!" shouted Lupus.

"Oh bullshit! Buddha could kick that scrawny tech-support's ass 14 days to Shiva Ratri!" argued Mortem.

"But Gandhi's words are backed with nuclear weapons!" warned Simo.

"Dude, you think I'm ever going to be famous?" asked Edward.

"You are famous," spoke Vladimir. "Your face is on every wanted posterboard this side of the galaxy."

"Dude…that's cool."

"You ever wonder why we have trees on Christmas?" inquired Hemera. "I mean, we basically took the carcass of a growing thing, planted it in our living room, desecrated it with hanging lights and ornaments…for Jesus."

"Yeah, good point," grunted Suture. "Another thing: Why did we pick a cross? I mean, isn't that a bit offensive? That'd be like starting a JFK religion and making the symbol a sniper rifle."

Cecilia hugged Suture and Hemera tightly, two cigarettes in her mouth simultaneously. She was grinning widely, easily the highest person in the room. "I love you guys!"

"Dude, what if the reason we can't walk through mirrors is because the reflection is blocking us?" asked Edward. He seemed to be one of those philosophical stoners you barely understood back in college and just hoped they'd pass the bong around for your turn.

"What if they're protecting us?" countered Vladimir.

"Yeah…yeah! Like, the other side is full of pain and suffering and shit, and they don't want you to go through that same shit, you know?"

"What if we're the reflection?" asked Suture.

They all stopped, the implications horrifying.

Mortem began smirking, doing something in the shadows. She appeared to be pouring a beer into her cupped hand, giggling to herself every few seconds.

"This beer is really getting out of hand!" she yelled a millisecond before throwing it at Lupus's face.

"Fucking bitch!" roared the guitarist panicking, falling off his chair.

She burst into laughter alongside Hemera, both of them finding it highly amusing.

"Why is gay marriage illegal?" asked Edward again.

"Some people find it disgusting," answered Vladimir.

"Well I find fucking peas disgusting, and I don't make them illegal!"

"Peas are delicious!" shouted Simo.

"Gay people are delicious too," murmured Suture.

"No dessert until you eat all your gays!" shouted Mortem.

"What the fuck is happening?" inquired Edward.

"Shut up and eat your gays!" exclaimed Lupus.

Simo held out a bowl full of colorful candies, smiling. "Hey everyone, I got a bowl of Skittles here!"

Everyone began to ravenously began shoving down handfuls, before all pausing simultaneously.

"My tongue is so confused!" exclaimed Mortem clutching at her throat.

"What the hell was that?!" demanded Lupus spitting out the candy.

"Oh, that was Skittles…but half of them were M&amp;M's!"

"No!" screamed everyone, as if his prank had been a monstrosity equivalent to the Holocaust.

* * *

**[Richard McGuinness] "Yay! We got questions for Q&amp;A again! This is great!"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Hell yeah! Shall we get started best buddy?"**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Let's! First question from DragonKinn: 'You said that there are Eridians in the prison. Will we see one? Will they join the Crimson Raiders?'"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Unfortunately Dragon, the answer to the second one is no. The answer to the first one, however, is a big fat yes. You'll definitely see the Eridians later, but they are not good guys. Not as bad as Davis maybe, but they're not people to meet in dark allies."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Okay, new question, same person: 'Will Dion be joining the prison soon?'."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "We're debating on that actually. While that would break the one team rule we've had for a while, that would also enable us to show multiple characters in different scenarios and improve characterization. Leave a comment on what you'd like to see."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Right, onto the next guy. This guy is apparently named CLA, and he writes: 'IF you would put the current relationships on a scale of 1 to 10 what would they be?'"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "On a scale? Huh…well that's a bit hard. Do we have 10 relationships in this story?"**

**[Richard McGuinness] "I think so. Let's see…yeah, I got it. Let me pull it up. Apparently Sam wrote it up on which ones he likes the most."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Oh, that's definitely good. Paste that below."**

**1) Taika/Saprus**

**2) Katelyn/Suture**

**3) Mortem/Alan**

**4) Lilith/Baskerville**

**5) Gaige/Baldemar**

**6) Elena/Paige**

**7) Swarna/Bastien**

**8) Aurai/Dion**

**9) Davis/Nightmares**

**10) Jane/John**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Am I really the only one who doesn't like John and Jane?"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Yep! Sam loves them! I do to!"**

**[Richard McGuinness] "God…anyway, I got a question for you Scott."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Really? Well…this is…Rich, I do! I will marry you!"**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Not that kinda question you idiot! I'm married anyway!"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Great cover!"**

**[Richard McGuinness] "…I'm asking the question. Is Davis inspired from Ichi the Killer?"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Oh totally and completely. He's basically an expy of Kalahira from that manga/movie. Sam admitted it's one of his favorites. Thing is, he somehow made Davis more disturbing in my opinion."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Time will definitely tell. I wonder what lines we'll cross next."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Same here. Anything else?"**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Are you actually gay?"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Mere mortal…my sexuality is incomprehensible. Like the number of sands in a desert or the secret to figuring out the female mentality, the answer is so profoundly impossible for you to understand it would cause cranial hemorrhaging upon merely gazing at it! THE UNIVERSE IN WHICH YOU LIVE IN CANNOT EVEN BEGIN TO HANDLE THE WEIGHT AND MASS OF SUCH AN ANSWER, AS NOT ONLY CAN IT BEND THE FABRID OF SPACE AND TIME, IT EXCEEEDS THESE FEEBLE DIMENSIONS YOU LIVE IN LIKE THEY WERE MERE PAPER CUFFS ATTACHED TO A BULL! SO REMAIN SILENT AND REJOICE, FOR ANSWERING SUCH A QUESTION WOULD BRING ONLY DESPAIR AND DESTRUCTION TO THIS WORLD!"**

**[Richard McGuinness] "…Scott, how much Adderall did you take?"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "I AM ADDERRALL!"**


	20. Chapter 20: Spooky Scary Skeletons

"Wow, you got kicked out in the first week?" asked Lilith amazed.

"Somehow, yes," muttered Edward. "Turns out doing billions in property damage and killing hundreds of people is 'rude'."

"In fairness, you were acting irrationally," argued Vladimir.

"Irrational? Of course I was fucking irrational, I met that Auto-Tune-using twat Croix Sonore! I'm amazed I didn't destroy the whole prison just to kill him!"

"Considering your history with him, your reasons are perfectly justifiable," spoke Lilith. "However, seems a bit hypocritical, seeing as you preached controlling your rage with Dion."

"I never once proposed controlling it," argued Edward. "I just proposed not being an idiot and charging into a fight he doesn't know. I know exactly what Croix can do, and I'm a melee fighter. I nearly killed that son of a bitch if he hadn't used some bullshit to keep him alive."

"Well we can't let you join the competition again, and we're noticing something."

"And that is?" inquired Vladimir.

"Bellum finally showed up to the competition. They're in Ward A of Sweeney City though, while our initial team was in Ward C."

"Why's that important?" asked Edward.

Lilith scowled. "Bellum's always been a pain in our ass since we left Pandora. They've constantly been following our example and trying to make things difficult. But this? Wards A and C are on completely opposite ends of the prison. They have nothing in common; even some of the gangs are different. Why are they there of all places?"

"Perhaps they simply want the Vault?" proposed Vladimir. "They're simply doing it this way to minimize encounters with you and mess up their plans."

Lilith shook her head, biting into her thumb. "That ain't it. Bellum doesn't do 'easy' or 'logical'. They're insane, the whole lot of them. Something's drawn them to Ward A, and we need to find out what it is. We need to send a new team of Vault Hunters into that Ward as well."

"Eddy will let you?" questioned Edward amazed.

"Uh…no, he won't. This will be under the counter."

"Oh…any idea on how you're going to do that?"

"Ningyo Torikku. He's broken out of numerous prisons, and he can break into one."

Edward smirked. "He's only broken out from the Syndicate's help, but you have a point. He'll definitely do it. I also went to send in some men of my own."

He clapped his hands, the door to the room opening. Two figures entered the room, both of them extremely odd looking even by this story's standards.

"Oh my, what a pretty girl!" yelled the first one, standing in at seven feet tall. It looked like a rotting zombie, several parts of its body either worn or completely missing. Its voice was feminine-sounding, but had such little external body parts to really show it. Her face was a complete skull, though she still felt the need to wear sunglasses and a top hat for some indeterminate reason. She had a sword on her belt, a long rapier freshly sharpened and shined.

She bowed, taking off her hat to expose her white skull. "I hope you have brains though, because zombies love a girl with brains!"

She burst into a throaty laughter, even though she didn't even seem to have an intact throat.

**Dude "Grandmaster": Master Zombie Swordswoman (Bounty: $555,000,000,000,000)**

The other person was wrapped in bandages like a mummy, sand pouring out with every movement. It appeared far more calm and collected than its partner, two massive shuriken bound to its back.

It bowed its head, speaking in a deep raspy voice. "Hello."

**Sven Olhouser "Bleeding Melancholy": The Sands Will Rise (Bounty: $382,000,000,000,000)**

Lilith's eyes widened. "…the fuck is this, a Halloween party?"

"Hey, you know what people say about zombie parties?" asked Dude.

"What?" inquired Baskerville.

"That it's dead and full of stiffs!"

She laughed again, several members of the room groaning in anguish. A zombie female swordsman was one though, but a zombie female swordsman with no sense of humor was definitely on the negative end of the scale.

"Where do you find these people?" asked Lilith.

"Oh, that's simple," began Dude. "It was a warm Monday night, or was it Tuesday? No, I think it was definitely Wednesday…anyway, it was a bright Sunday morning…"

"I honestly stopped trying to ask," spoke Edward. "Dude doesn't make sense, and Sven doesn't talk."

"I do talk," objected Sven, spitting out a clump of sand.

"Shut up Sven," snapped Dude.

"Quick question," spoke Baskerville. "If you're a girl, why are you called Dude?"

"Oh, well that has a long, complicated backstory, but is completely different from why I am a zombie. Continued in the next chapter."

"Just tell me now!" yelled the wereskag.

"Calm yourself," warned Lilith. "Anyway, I'm grateful to accept any help from your group. Though I'm fairly certain a zombie and a mummy are going to attract notice."

"Nonsense!" argued Dude. She quickly began to disassemble herself, her limbs perfectly able to function despite being separated.

"Look! I'm like a LEGO person!" she said lying in the floor, now a pile of various limbs and appendages.

Sven simply dissolved completely into sand, his overall volume being at a few pints at most.

"Huh, well we can certainly stow that in their luggage," noted Baskerville.

"How convenient," grunted Lilith rolling her eyes. "Really, it's amazing what kind of shit we see every week. What's next? A tap-dancing hippopotamus?"

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Don't say that too loud. Sam might actually do it."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Depending upon how high he gets next time he brainstorms. The more I think about it, the longer I get convinced he actually will do it."**

* * *

"Yay! I got selected to go!" yelled Paula, running around the room excitedly. "I'm so happy to get back to the action!"

"Hell yeah!" shouted Bartholomew, hugging the small artist in his massive arms. He was shaking the room with his laughter, absolutely ecstatic. "I was growing bored of doing nothing all these chapters, and now I get a chance to show my work!"

"While I am not so enthusiastic about returning to a prison, I too am eager," stated Ningyo calmly, flexing his metallic arms. "My muscles grow weaker by the day."

They all paused as the door to the room opened, a familiar figure entering the room.

"No freaking way!" yelled Paula excitedly. "You finally got cleared?!"

"Amazingly enough, yes," stated Dion leaning against the door. He stood straight, showing off the impressive scar line he had obtained from his surgery. "I finally recovered completely, and Suture gave me a clean bill of health."

"Excellent!" exclaimed the artist. "Now you can get absolutely obliterated again, just like last time!"

He glared at her intensely. "I'm grateful to see you haven't changed."

Bartholomew scooped the tiny Titan in his arms, bellowing with laughter. "Great to have you along! Let's have a jolly good adventure!"

"Ah, watch the hair!" complained the Titan.

* * *

The two men walked through Sweeney City calmly, both of them moving with notable disconcern for the criminals glancing sideways at them from the alleys.

The first one, one who walked with military-grade precision, began to talk, his voice deep and booming. "This city is infected with the scourge of society, scourge that threatens the health of the entire universe. And if this scourge is the disease, than we must certainly be the c…"

"Oh God, shut up!" begged his partner with scorching white hair. "You sound like a dork!"

Suddenly they were surrounded by thugs, stopping their progress in the street. The thugs were all armed with makeshift weaponry, a few even possessing firearms crafted from scraps.

"Possessions," snapped the leader.

The white-haired man paused. "What? What possessions? Jesus, that was a single word sentence. It didn't even have a verb like 'Stop' or 'Go'."

"Sorry. Your possessions, on the ground, now."

"See, that's better," complimented the white-haired man. He smiled pleasantly. "But where are my manners? I am Amon, and this is my partner Jefferson. We can't really leave our possessions lying unsecured in the street, so we are going to have to decline your offer."

"Oh, they'll be secure, trust me," jested the leader. The gang laughed, immediately detecting his sarcasm. "Now drop the stuff."

"This is stupid," snapped Jefferson, the military man.

"Oh shut up youngster," ordered Amon. "I'm still debating something."

He jabbed out and yanked the gang leader's eye clean out of his head, blood pouring from the wound. "Yeah…yeah…definitely. See, his eyes are more steel blue, not just blue. It was really bothering me what color they were."

The gang leader screamed in pain and collapsed, clasping his hands over the bleeding hole in his head. "Goddamn it! Kill them!"

The gang didn't move, each of them slowly backing away in fear. Obviously any person who could yank a person's eyes out without even blinking was too dangerous of an individual to fight. A wise decision.

Amon crushed the eye casually, sighing. "Think there's enough time for sight-seeing Jefferson? I'm growing bored of this city already."

"We have a job Mr. Amon," reminded Jefferson. "We are to track down the Syndicate members immediately."

"Oh honestly, you youngsters and your jobs. Back in my day…well…it was really similar to nowadays now that I think about it, just in black and white. Oh well."

He wiped the blood and gore of the eye on his trousers, hefting his briefcase. "Let's move on then."

The two of them left swiftly, the white-haired Amon happily skipping as he walked while his serious partner Jefferson marched. Not a soul got within three meters of them after that.


	21. Chapter 21: Exciting Times

Ningyo slid the manhole cover off the street, grunting in effort. He climbed out, the pitch darkness of Sweeney City blinding around him. "Come on, hurry."

The rest of the crew climbed out with him, holding their weapons nervously. The night was not reassuring, and they kept hearing something in the distance, like a whine.

"Why's it quiet?" inquired Dion.

He stopped breathing for a second, his vision shifting. He was staring at something's face in front of him, the creature pressed right up against him. It was screaming in his face, its mouth full of rotten teeth.

Then it disappeared, leaving nothing behind.

"Did anyone else just fucking see that?!" he yelled panicking.

"We need to find shelter," spoke Ningyo. "Or light. I'm seeing it too."

They began running through the streets, noticing entities from the corners of their eyes. They appeared like pale figures in the distance, only visible in their peripheral vision for a second before disappearing. They all looked the same: long distorted limbs, pale skin, and a screaming face. They made no noise except for the whining, which increased with every second.

"Light!" warned Sven, sand bleeding behind him steadily.

Dion dived through the alley, bathing himself in the yellow glow. He glanced to the side, his eyes widening.

Ningyo yanked him up a second before a passing car nearly tore his head off.

"T-t-thanks," spoke the Titan recuperating from his near death experience.

"Don't mention it," stated Ningyo.

They glanced at the lit street, noting the large yellow lamps that covered it. There were cars flying down the street rapidly, making sharp turns down more lit streets. Apparently someone was racing, even at night.

"Huh, the light must keep those things away," murmured Paula.

A few grease monkeys appeared, all of them carrying machine guns. They stopped a few feet away from the Vault Hunters, trying to appear civil.

"You the new guests?" spoke the leader.

"Yeah," stated Bartholomew walking forward. He offered his hand.

The leader declined it. "Our boss wants to see you. Apparently he knows you."

"Who is he?" asked Dion curiously.

The leader snickered. "If you had to ask that, you clearly don't know much about this place."

BREAK

Nitro burst into laughter, leaping out his chair to hug Dion and Paula. "Old friends! I am so glad to see you again!"

They hugged back awkwardly, curious as to his change to them.

"You're…friendly?" asked Dion.

"I thought you worked for the Carnival," stated Paula.

"Oh, that was my old job," insisted Nitro. "Now I'm the head of an underground racing cult. In all honesty, this job fits me far better!"

He gestured to the race track. "I mean, look at this! It's perfection! It's like Christmas for people like me!"

Dion smirked. "I thought the Octanes were in Ward C."

"We're in any Ward we please really. Anywhere we can race," argued Nitro. "Ward A had the widest streets, so we use these streets. Most other places involve either the rooftops or the sewers. Night is always dangerous though."

"I imagine. The hell were those things?" inquired Dude.

"Eddy's guards, the Eridians," explained Nitro. "They aren't…like anything I've ever seen. They…mess with your mind. It's like static on a television, but with your brain. Hard to describe."

"Agreed," spoke Ningyo. "So I assume you heard about our agreement?"

"Oh, sure. You can stay with me as long as you want. You aren't part of this competition, so you have no need to fight me. I'm still going to fight your comrades in Ward C though."

Nitro shook excitedly, literally hopping. "Oh, exciting times to be alive! So many good fights before me! I can hardly wait!"

"Oh my God he's so cute," whispered Paula. "Especially since he's bald."

"Agreed," spoke Dude.

"Even I'm feeling it," stated Ningyo.

"Gay," grunted Dion.

"Hey, it's legal now."

"It was just a joke! Honestly, I've been around Alan too much to be homophobic."

"Are you saying Alan is a homosexual?" inquired Bartholomew.

"And that you can tell him to his face."

"Are you all ready to head out?" asked Nitro. "Or would you prefer to watch the race? There's still five laps to go, and I think it's going to be an exciting one!"

Bartholomew grinned. "I'd love to. Where's the beer?"

"Alright! Come my large cyborg friend!"

The two boisterous men walked off, their arms over each other's shoulders like best friends.

"How is it he can make friends with everyone?" asked Dion.

"It's called not being a little asshole," stated Ningyo.

"Huh, I might want to try it sometime. But not today. I'm getting something to drink."

"Right behind you," agreed Dude.

"Can you even drink? You're a zombie."

"Of course I am. By the way, what's the first thing a zombie eats after getting her teeth pulled?"

"Uh…I have no idea."

"The dentist."

Dion groaned and smacked himself in the forehead. "Let's just find the drinks."

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "So…I guess the Eridians are a little different than what we're used to."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "That's a fucking understatement. That was some Slender shit right there."**


	22. Chapter 22: The Pussy Wagon

"The Octanes huh?" questioned Lupus lighting a cigarette. "How exactly are we going to fight those?"

"You don't," spoke Doctor Ivanlove calmly. "The Octanes are fairly nonviolent, and never attack unless in self-defense."

"So why are they even in this competition?" asked Mortem.

"Racing boosts ratings," argued the doctor. "Scientifically proven. I have no doubt Eddy Tsar has a plan to get us all involved with them."

"Indeed I do Doctor Ivanlove," spoke Eddy over the intercom. "Sorry for eavesdropping, but I felt now was the appropriate time to begin my speech. First, congratulations to all contestants for lasting through Week 1. That was practice. Week 2 has the Octanes, the best racing cult this side of the galaxy. They're hosting a tournament during this week, with the prize being a cache of supplies, supplies you all very well need. So I'd scrounge up a car if I was you, or you'll be left in the dust. Happy racing."

"Figures," grunted Doctor Ivanlove. "Anyone here know how to drive?"

Hemera raised her hand, grinning. "Right here."

"Bring your friends with you. I got something to show you."

The six of them were escorted into the Fags' garage, a large tarp covering an object in the center. Doctor Ivanlove ripped it off, revealing a self-constructed car made of scrap.

"We managed to build ourselves a ride," stated the doctor. "Took a while, but I figured Eddy would pull this kind of stunt before."

"It's pink," spoke Hemera.

"Yes, it is."

"I hate pink."

"Well if you want to repaint it, be my guest."

"There are hearts on it."

"We call it the Heartbreaker."

Suture grunted. "Whatever. Explain how these races work."

Doctor Ivanlove gestured to the vehicle. "Every driver can bring whatever car they want with any number of people aboard. All weapons are allowed. Nitro somehow got his hands on a New-U Station, so you don't have to worry about dying thankfully. These races get pretty deadly."

He tapped the heavy armored plating. "Hence why protection is more important than speed in these races. This thing looks like a mobile tank because that's what survives these races. Steel plating siding, bulletproof windows, and…"

He gestured to the immense concrete slab in the back. "A foot-wide concrete block to stop you from getting shot in the back."

"What weapons do we have?" inquired Hemera.

"Since this is a race to the death, we made sure to give it the most unfair weapons we could think of. Flamethrower, grenade launcher, machine guns, grappling hooks, caltrops, oil slicks, and my personal favorite, a beehive gun."

Cecilia cocked her head to the side. "Wat?"

"Oh, let me explain. It's a gun that fires beehives."

"That's just evil," murmured Mortem.

"But effective," argued Suture. "How many people does it sit?"

"Including the driver…four."

"So most of us are maintenance," grunted Jackal.

"Shotgun!" called Mortem diving into the car. "Oh, there are helmets here!"

She plopped one on, immediately deciding to reenact her favorite war movie. "What is your malfunction driver?! I will rip that steering wheel out of your hands and jam it into your ovaries if you keep delaying like some bath-fucked chicken!"

"Wat's a bath-fucked chicken?" inquired Vika completely baffled.

"I think that's what happened when she and Alan had sex in the showers," murmured Lupus. "I'm going with them as well."

"A chance tah get in dah spotlight?" asked Vika. "Count me in."

"That's four," stated Doctor Ivanlove. "Want to take the car for a test ride?"

Hemera nodded, hopping into the driver's seat. Cracking her knuckles, she gave a small smile.

"God, even this gay-ass vehicle still reeks like a car," said the Siren. "Nothing compares to it."

"Speed junkie eh?" asked Lupus sliding into the back. He noted the various stains in the car's seat and tried to ignore the ones that looked like sexual fluids.

"You bet. I love cars."

"Just drive," snapped Vika. "I let ya all take ma spotlight in dah last story, but now it's ma turn."

"Let's get going!" cheered Mortem.

Lupus suddenly stopped, horrified. "Oh God. I just willingly got in a car with three females, and one of them is the driver."

"Sucks to be you," spoke Hemera.

Then she floored the accelerator, speeding down the street.

"Huh, I forgot to mention we didn't install seatbelts. Or airbags," murmured Doctor Ivanlove.

"That's unfortunate," noted Suture.

* * *

**[Richard McGuiness] "So, any new questions?"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Just one. This one from Blitz, one of our old friends: Is Dude based off Brook from One Piece?"**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Yeah. Sam's loved One Piece for years, but made sure to avoid too many references to any particular media. I think Bartholomew is based off Franky though."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Hell yeah. It wasn't obvious? Really, we should compile a list of references each character has just to clear the air."**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Uh…I got a list right here."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Then drop it down."**

**[Richard McGuiness] "It's only got characters we care about, so that'll save us a lot of time."**

Vault Hunters

-Dion Kormos: Edward Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist), Asura (Asura's Wrath)

-Baldemar Rodrigues: The Demoman (Team Fortress 2)

-Taika: Yoko Littner (Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann), Sniper (Dota 2)

-Saprus: Barragan Louisenbairn (Bleach), Magellan (One Piece)

-Wolfenstein: The Captain (Hellsing Ultimate), Warwick (League of Legends)

-Lupus Cithara: Genkaku (Deadman Wonderland), The Coma Doof Warrior (Mad Max: Fury Road), Eddie Riggs (Brutal Legend)

-Alan Fitzgerald Hidan (Naruto), Alexander Anderson (Hellsing Ultimate)

-Paula Picassa: Solf J. Kimblee (Fullmetal Alchemist), Deidara (Naruto) Cody the Special Effects Guy (Tropic Thunder), Ziggs (League of Legends)

-Aurai: Shiro (Deadman Wonderland), Yachiru Kuasajishi (Bleach), Amy Rose (Sonic the Hedgehog)

-Suture: Dr. Franken Stein (Soul Eater), Kiyomasa Senji (Deadman Wonderland)

-Simo Hathcock: Simo Hayha (Real Life), Carlos Hathcock (Real Life), Vash the Stampede (Trigun)

-Bartholomew Lowe: Bartholomew Roberts (Real Life), Edward Lowe (Real Life), Franky (One Piece)

-Mortem: Panty Anarchy (Panty and Stocking With Garterbelt), France (Axis Powers Hetalia), Isabela (Dragon Age II),

-Ningyo Torikku: Kankuro (Naruto), Donquixote Doflamingo (One Piece), Predator (Predator)

-Hemera: Admiral Kizaru (One Piece), Sonic The Hedgehog (Sonic The Hedgehog)

-Cecilia the Komodo: Mesmer (Guild Wars 2), Leigharch (Black Lagoon), Bobby (A Goofy Movie), Jesse/Chester (Dude, Where's My Car?), Harold/Kumar (Harold &amp; Kumar)

Carnival of Carnage

-Masher: Nnoitra Gilga (Bleach)

-Stan the Planet Slayer: Artorias (Dark Souls), Dragonslayer Ornstein (Dark Souls)

-Elena Tear: Tier Harribel (Bleach), Kisame

-Nitro: Rock Lee (Naruto), Speed Racer (Speed Racer)

-Jackal Cash: Coyote Starrk (Bleach)

Cassius's Army

-Noyade Sable: Caribou (One Piece), Crocodile (One Piece)

-Daedalus: Vel'Koz (League of Legends)

-Mir Volstelle: Gremmy Thoumeaux (Bleach)

-Bastien De La Fontain: Augus (Asura's Wrath)

-Peter Gorman: Miyamoto Musashi (Real Life)

-Adamo Caro: Nianzol Weizol (Bleach)

-Vincent Lebeau: Sergei (Asura's Wrath)

-Tamara Kuznetsov: Admiral Akainu (One Piece)

-Cassius Hardy: Emperor Yhwach(Bleach)

Sweeney City

-Mary Jane: Little Mac (Punch-Out!)

-Davis Dahmer: Kakihara (Ichi the Killer)

Watchdogs

-Croix Sonore: Scratchmen Apoo (One Piece)

-Wallace: Tryndamere (League of Legends)

-Amon: Kureo Mado (Tokyo Ghoul)

-Jefferson: Koutarou Amon (Tokyo Ghoul)

Syndicate

-Edward the Kidd: Eustass Kidd (One Piece), Edward Teach (Real Life)

-Vladimir Cain: Lost Sinner (Dark Souls 2)

-Little Becca: Annie (League of Legends)

-Eleanor Tarot: Basil Hawkins (One Piece)

-Dude: Brook (One Piece)

-Sven Olhouser: Amumu (League of Legends), Azir (League of Legends)

-Vika Grieve: Mask De Masculine (Bleach)

-Saji Mayer: Toph (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Minor Characters/Miscellaneous

-A Hustler Named Quicksilver: A Pimp Named Slickback (Boondocks)

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Huh…you know, all those people who called Sam a weaboo…they might've had a point."**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Looking like it to me. It's not all anime thankfully, but damn if it isn't a huge chunk."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Of course, it's not that these are like whole characters cut straight from their source material. Look at Saprus or Lupus."**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Yeah, then look at Wolfenstein."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Okay, that isn't fair. Somehow, he's still a really popular character."**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Boggles the mind."**


	23. Chapter 23: Before the Rubber

Davis twirled a needle in his hand as he watched the live feed, a content expression on his face.

"Huh, this race will be most excellent," he stated calmly.

His lieutenants were with him, seated in their office. Besides him, there were three other heads of the Deviants who managed the organization. Their jobs were stressful to say the least, so any entertainment was highly prized.

"Pass the popcorn Humbert!" roared one of the twins, a massive man with muscles that could barely fit in his shirt. "You've been hogging it!"

"Oh go talk to someone who cares, Francois," snapped the other twin, a thin man with a long knife in his fist. He shoveled in another mouthful of popcorn.

Francois gritted his teeth, turning around in his chair to the person in the back. "Yo, bitch, get me some goddamn popcorn!"

Humbert leaped out of his chair, stabbing his knife an inch from his twin brother's eye. Francois glanced at him, eyebrow raised.

"You got a problem little bro?" inquired Francois.

"Don't call Diana a bitch," snapped Humbert. "She's one of mine, and I'll kill you if you speak to her like that again."

"Why don't you two idiots just get along?" asked the only female lieutenant in the room, wearing a suit made of leather. She flexed her legs, her boots plated in metal. "You're twins? Aren't you supposed to get along naturally?"

"Whoever told you that is full of shit, Catherine," snapped Francois.

"We've never gotten along, not even in the womb," grunted Humbert. He drew back his knife, cleaning it instinctively. "Diana, get him some popcorn. I'm feeling kind today."

A young girl, probably no older than 15, walked in with a new bag of popcorn. She gave it to Francois, bowing from the waist.

"Thanks," snapped Francois.

Humbert kissed the girl gently, grinning. "Thanks Diana. You truly are a sweetheart."

Diana smiled and walked back into the corner, waiting for orders.

"How old is she?" inquired Catherine.

"It's probably in the single digits," grunted Francois.

"Go to hell big bro! She's 14! That's the age of consent in Eden-3!"

"Is Eden-3 the Alabama of the Edens?" joked the big brother.

"Oh I am going to…!"

"Cut it," snapped Davis. "Humbert's fetishes are perfectly legitimate, as he always takes care of his submissives. You shouldn't be one to judge Francois."

"Hey, dead girls can't say no," stated Francois.

"That isn't something you should be proud of," argued Catherine.

"Says the same girl who blended some poor guy's dick in a blender with pickled herrings."

"Hey, I like penis coladas."

"The race is starting," spoke Davis. "Diana, would you kindly get me some popcorn as well?"

"Certainly Mr. Dahmer."

"And will you two shut it while the race is on? If you don't…"

Davis glanced back at them, smiling pleasantly. "…I'll kill you."

* * *

Hemera drove the Heartbreaker through the racing garage, expertly avoiding the crowds gathered. Apparently any group of idiots could scrounge together a car, as there were at least a dozen of other racers there.

"Nice hearts!" taunted one of the racers.

"You get that from the toy store?" jested another.

"Let me kill dem," grunted Vika.

"Wait till we're on the track," ordered Lupus. "After that, go all out."

They parked in an open spot, the rest of their team waiting for them.

"Make sure nothing gets sabotaged," stated Hemera. "I don't trust a single person here."

"I am here," spoke Jackal. "There is no greater security."

Suddenly a massive vehicle showed up, blaring heavy metal music from its speakers. The vehicle looked more like a mobile podium, the top of it adorned with a metal throne. Seated in it was an old friend and host of the race.

"Jackal!" yelled Nitro standing up, absolutely giddy.

He leaped off, running to his old comrade. He hugged him tightly, laughing like a child. "It has been too long old friend! Why didn't you contact me?! I'd have made a proper welcome!"

"Nice to see you as well," spoke Suture from the side.

"Oh, doctor! I didn't see you there. You always did hide in the shadows."

Suture shrugged, not denying it. "You aren't wrong."

"How's our other squad?" inquired Lupus.

"Very well. They haven't found any leads on why Bellum is here though. I have an idea though."

Nitro leaned in close, whispering. "The Vault here…it's not like the others. It's not a monster or loot. It's…the end of the world. The end of everything."

"What do you mean?" asked Jackal.

"Those Eridians that guard it were the first clue. Whatever is in that Vault…it isn't good. It could very well be the Apocalypse stored in there. Why do you think Eddy Tsar hasn't opened it yet? Not from lack of resources, but from a lack of desire to see everything destroyed."

"And why would Bellum want that?" inquired Lupus. "They want control over the chaos, not just anarchy."

"They want to make sure it's never opened," explained Nitro. "I think some people in this competition would love to see that Vault opened up and watch over the havoc, even if they were killed too."

"That still doesn't explain why Eddy would advertise it so strongly," spoke Jackal. "Why advertise something you don't want opened?"

"I think he'll just pull the loot he said he'd give out of his private accounts and keep the Vault closed. This entire operation is to clean house for his prison and garner reviews for his webshow. Nothing more."

"Well he's an idiot," grunted Hemera. "Some of the people here are way too strong to handle. Look at those Watchdogs they released last time, and the next two are said to be even worse. I'm sure someone he invited would open that Vault for shits and giggles."

"Thankfully, the Vault is in the same place as the Clowns, and only Eddy Tsar and the Deviants have the keys to that place," stated Nitro. "Eddy would never hand his over, and the Deviants are too strong for one person to fight."

"If that's the case, we have nothing to worry about except surviving these next four weeks," spoke Jackal. "What's the prize for this race?"

"Oh, twenty supply crates for first, ten for second, and five for third. Anything lower doesn't get one."

"Then first place it is," assured Hemera cracking her knuckles. "I may be slower in a car, but I'm the best damn driver that showed up today."

* * *

**[Richard McGuinness] "Huh…Sam…you're here. This can't be good."**

**[Samuel Keller] "I wish I came on better circumstances Rich. I've tried to ignore something that's been happening on my story's pages for a while, but I can't do that anymore. Some guy has been leaving reviews that have been little more than trash-talking. I deleted them of course, but some of the things he mentioned weren't that far off from thoughts I've been having."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Like what?"**

**[Samuel Keller] "I always end up making badass characters less badass than they should be. Look at Zero. He lost to some little girl with a scythe rifle till he got backup."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Okay, that one can be explained. You're just trying not to make certain characters too unbelievably strong. If you did, the audience wouldn't believe whatever did do them in if you chose so. They'd think you pulled some weakness you never discussed out of your ass or something. It's all competitive balance."**

**[Samuel Keller] "Yeah, I guess. The main thing he talked about though, was that I've crossed a few lines. With Masher, Mockingbird, and especially Davis Dahmer. I'd just like to tell my audience that if I've offended them in anyway, I'm sorry. I'm only writing a story to entertain, not to provoke people. While part of my job is making you feel strong emotions, rage should not be one of them."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Hey, no one else said they were offended. That guy's probably just being an ass."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Yeah, this is the Internet. You can be an ass on the Internet and receive no repercussions for it whatsoever."**

**[Samuel Keller] "And I really hate playing the victim card though. It feels kinda wrong. I shouldn't be letting one guy get to me, but he is. It really pisses me off."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Hey, you got a ton of loyal fans out there already. One sour apple shouldn't spoil the batch."**

**[Samuel Keller] "Yeah, I guess you're right. Seeing so many people read my stuff really does brighten my day, especially if they left a good review. This stuff may just be practice for when I actually write books, but it feels good regardless. Either way, please leave a bunch of reviews would you kindly? I'd love to get some opinions on my work."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] ****"Tatty bye!"**

**[Richard McGuinness] ****"Later queers!"**


	24. Chapter 24: Start Your Engines

Nitro walked onto his stage at the start of the race track, strutting with a decisive swagger to each step. He slammed a boot onto the top, grabbing the microphone hanging from the top.

"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, to another exciting race here at Sweeney City!" he shouted into the microphone, the crowds roaring their approval. "I'm Nitro, leader of the Octanes, and today we begin the first day of Week 2 to Eddy Tsar's competition! I'm super excited to see what sort of people are willing to brave our tracks to obtain supplies, and I'm sure you are too!"

He began walking nonchalantly, twirling the microphone cord. "Now the rules of our races are simple. Whoever crosses first, wins. If two vehicles somehow cross at the same time, the one more intact wins! You can't just fire your guns willy-nilly though, oh no sir! I made it so you had to cross lit tiles on the floor to activate your various weapon systems, for balancing sake of course! Now you don't have to worry about dying on my tracks either! I managed to obtain a localized New-U Station just for my racers! Eddy Tsar made me promise to only use it for the races though, so don't go stabbing that annoying guy next to you because he spilled beer on your shirt!"

He laughed good-naturedly. "Now, the track today is a personal favorite of mine! Half of it is on the streets of Sweeney City, and the other is in the sewer system below! The best part was, we didn't even have to make it! All this crap was already here! Amazing how convenient some things end up, right? Anyway, let's count off the roster for this race! In row 1, we got fan favorites Whiskey Joe and Rob Bombly! In row 2, the chaotic and gorgeous Virinia Sisters and the mysterious and dark 7! And in row 3, we have the Vault Hunter Syndicate combo and…uh…who is that?"

The unknown racers in the back row threw off their hoods, revealing that they were two handsome young men. One of them was a stoic muscular man wearing a military uniform, his expression unmoving. The other was a thin man holding a briefcase, his hair snow white and his body emaciated.

"We, you young whippersnapper," spoke Amon with a grin, "are proud Watchdogs of his Majesty's service. I am Amon, or Skelton Jack as many of you know me as. My friend here, who always looks like he's taking a dump, is Jefferson, or the Hanged Man. I checked in the shower, it's accurate."

No one was laughing at his attempts at humor, everyone absolutely terrified. They knew of the Hanged Man and Skeleton Jack, two of the best Watchdogs in the Universal Government's service. The idea they were here meant something was very wrong.

"Oh come now, we're just here for some friendly competition!" assured Amon. "I grew bored staring a damn computer screen for the last few days! I'm old school! I want my work covered in grease and sweat, not ink and plastic! Besides, I could use something for stress relief. And what's better than the ability to murder every single person I come across and not worry about them dying? It's great! So come on! I'm looking forward to the race!"

Nitro gulped, trying to keep his crowds from panicking. "V-very well! We'll accept your sudden intrusion as a nice surprise! Do you have a crew?"

"Oh don't worry about us sonny," assured Amon winking. "We oldsters know a thing or two about cars. I can fix this thing up in a jiffy."

"Then let's get on with the race!"

Nitro grinned, finally grateful he could say his favorite line ever. "Gentlemen…start…your…ENGINES!"

Hemera smirked, revving up the Heartbreaker and loving the sound it made. "God, it may be covered in hearts and be bright-ass pink, but it's still a car. I love the smell of burning rubber in the morning."

Mortem rapidly checked off the weapon's list. "Machine guns, maximum capacity! Flamethrowers at full tanks! Vibrating seats on full blast…oh yeah that feels good."

"Can you please just freaking not?" asked Lupus disgusted. "Like…whoa that does feel good."

"Ya'all disgust me," snapped Vika, who couldn't actually feel the vibrating seats. Being far deader than Mortem probably had something to do with it.

The red lights above the race track began ticking down, going slowly into more yellow as the seconds passed.

"3…2…1…let's race!"

Hemera floored the accelerator along with every other racer, filling the starting line with smoke. They all flew off down the track, their weapons not active yet.

"Sword tile up ahead!" advised Mortem.

"On it," snapped Hemera.

"Wait, so what tiles are there?" asked Lupus.

"Sword is your weapon's systems," answered Mortem. "For us, it randomizes between machine gun, flamethrower, and grappling hooks. Shield is defense, with that being our oil slick, smoke bomb, and beehive launcher."

"Not sure how a beehive catapult is defense," grunted the guitarist.

"Oh can it! Just hope we roll one! I want to see it in action! Oh and there's Skull tiles, and those kill you!"

"Shut it! Trying to drive!" exclaimed Hemera. She grunted, turning the wheel sharply. "Baby's got a fat ass."

The other racers took all the Sword tiles in front of them, Hemera swearing loudly. "Goddamn it all! Nothing!"

"Hang back!' advised Vika. "Dah're gonna kill each otha!"

"I see that bitch!"

Whiskey Joe in the front line grinned, having rolled his signature weapon. He adjusted the flamethrower in the back of his car, aiming it right at the Virinia Sisters. He pulled the trigger, releasing a torrent of alcohol quickly followed by flames.

"Damn redneck!" screamed one of the sisters trying to extinguish the flames on the vehicle's hood.

Then they ran over a Skull tile.

A massive vertical blade appeared right in front of their car, splitting it completely in half and causing it to explode into a million pieces. Their bodies quickly were converted into data, released to the New-U Station.

"Turn and burn bitches!" roared Whiskey Joe, clearly pleased by his work.

"I don't like rednecks," snarled Hemera.

Rob Bombly groaned, having to settle on his least favorite tool. He aimed his machine gun at Whiskey Joe, the rounds eating at his bulletproof glass.

"Eat lead man!" yelled the bomb-happy hippie.

"Time to utilize our secret weapon," spoke Hemera grinning.

"We just started the race!" argued Lupus.

"That's right! They'll never see it coming!"

"You're an idiot! Do it!"

Hemera pulled a lever on the dash, activating a hidden mechanism in their car.

The Heartbreaker flew forward, the nitro hitting the tank like something hitting another something really hard. Apologies, but metaphors are hard when you use them too much.

"Yahoo! Not bad!" shouted Hemera.

"Wat kinda shit is dis?!" screamed Vika.

"Oh God I'm gonna hurl," murmured Lupus.

"Don't do it all over the vibrating seats!" roared Mortem, the only other person in the car enjoying the speed.

They flew past Racer X and the Watchdogs, placing them right at the battle between Whiskey Joe and Rob Bombly. The two top racers were having a ball trying to kill the other, both of their armored vehicles able to take the abuse.

"Smoke-soaked hippie!" insulted Whiskey Joe.

"Incestuous country mouse!" yelled Rob Bombly.

"Their banter needs work," noted Mortem.

"Dey should talk to me," snapped Vika.

Suddenly they heard something whirling through the air, like a blade. They all ducked instinctively, a thin whip passing over their car. It appeared to be rectangular and flat, similar to a whip sword but much longer, at least several yards long.

"Skeleton Jack might just catch you in the back!" screamed Amon, standing on the top of his car while his partner Jefferson drove. He appeared to have some sort of shield, preventing him from being harmed from bullets or explosions. He was clearly enjoying himself, his grin massive.

He flailed his long whip, apparently having hidden it inside his briefcase. He aimed it straight down, flinging the sharp edge at the Vault Hunter's.

The whip burrowed through the roof of their car, resting itself between Lupus and Vika in the backseat.

"Huh, that's sharp," noted the guitarist.

"Holy fuck!" shouted the Grave Knight.

Amon retracted it back, the whip having a mind of its own. It thrashed and flailed as it trailed behind its owner, waiting to strike.

"Jefferson, get me closer!" ordered Amon. "I want to burrow this into that stupid Syndicate woman's head!"

"Which one?" inquired Jefferson calmly.

"The driver! Honestly, what do they teach in schools these days!?"

"How is such an old man so tough?" asked Lupus annoyed.

"You kidding?!" shouted Amon, who somehow had heard that. "I was a mass-murdering psychopath before you were born makeup-boy!"

Lupus's eye twitched. The amount of bullshit he had to deal with throughout the last few days finally surfaced, exploding out of his mouth.

"MAKEUP-BOY!" he roared. "That's it motherfucker! You're going to die!"

He grabbed his guitar, climbing out to the top of the car's roof. He activated his shield, shouldering his guitar strap.

"Taste this old man!" shouted the guitarist blasting him with some sound waves. They exploded the street behind him in a mosaic of cracks shaking the very ground in a mile radius.

Amon laughed as his car shook and was nearly thrown off the road, genuinely impressed. "Nice work you whippersnapper! Not bad at all!"

He flung his whip back, this time aiming at Lupus. The whip bounced off his shield, but he kept up the assault, the whip striking back rapidly each time like a cobra intent on death.

Lupus smashed his guitar into the whip, shattering several metal sections that quickly reassembled themselves back together through magnetism.

"Can't break this weapon boy!" taunted Amon. "I didn't get this old from using stupid weapons!"

"Stop being an idiot and get back in the car!" shouted Mortem out of the window. "You can't take him on! He's got a ranged weapon and you don't!"

Lupus smirked, placing his guitar on his shoulder and aiming it. "You couldn't be more wrong."

He began firing compressed sound from the end of his guitar, blasting the vehicle the Watchdogs were in.

Amon found the whole spectacle hilarious, absolutely ecstatic at the weapon. "My oh my! That's a great weapon! My compliments to the designer!"

"Amon, I am losing vehicle control," spoke Jefferson emotionlessly.

"No kidding!"

Amon dove back into his car, flipping a switch to activate their machine guns. "Well let's just take care of that problem."

"Oh crap," muttered Lupus.

"Shield!" shouted Mortem.

Hemera drove over one, the random selection settling on beehive.

"Hell yeah! Let's go!" snapped the young Grave Knight pushing the button.

The back of the car opened, the catapult automatically aiming for Amon and Jefferson's car. It fired a large honey-filled beehive at them, smashing into their windshield and releasing the swarm.

"That isn't good," noted Jefferson as the bees began to crawl into their vehicle cabin.

"No kidding!" yelled Amon panicking.

They smashed into a wall, the two of them climbing out and trying to fight off the bees.

"Die!" shouted Amon pulling an aerosol can and lighter from his coat, bathing the area in flames. He covered his partner in it before stopping, smiling softly.

"Oh, sorry Jeff. Didn't see you there."

"Doesn't matter," replied Jefferson, even though his clothes were currently on fire. "I can't die, remember?"

"Oh yeah! Well let's get back in the race! I can't stand being last!"


	25. Chapter 25: Never Have I Ever

All the unattended Vault Hunters were gathered in the lounge, the table enormous to accommodate them all. The fact they had even agreed to gather was remarkable, as most of them tended to just lay about the ship lazily unless shouted out for several hours and violently thrown from their resting place.

"Okay, so Lilith ordered us to do some remedial therapy, to help unit cohesion," spoke Wolfenstein.

"That sounds like something you take medication to get rid of," stated Alan with a wide grin.

"Why?" asked Aurai innocently.

"We'll tell you when you're older," assured Katelyn.

"Why am I here?" asked Rocko.

"Because there are free fucking drinks!" roared Jessup grabbing a bottle. He began gulping it down, grinning. "Hot damn I love this therapy!"

"That actually is part of it," explained the wereskag. "It's apparently a college game called 'Never Have I Ever'. Each of us takes a turn, saying an action we have never committed. Anyone who actually has committed that action must not drink while the rest of us do. I fail to see how this would help our cooperation besides revealing that we are all horrible human beings and getting us severely intoxicated, but I will go along with it."

"I go first!" spoke Baldemar. "Never have I ever slept with another man!"

Taika, Katelyn, Gaige and Maya did not take a drink, obviously enough. What surprised the living hell out of everyone was that Aurai did not take a drink (of apple juice) as well as Axton.

"…what did you do?" inquired Maya curiously.

"It was a drunk night in Lynchwood," grunted the commando, not wanting to talk about it.

"Don't tell me my sweet innocent macaroon has been defiled!" screamed Gaige grabbing Aurai and shaking her. "When did you sleep with another man?!"

"Oh, me and Dion share a bed! He even tells me scary stories at night!"

"Lucky motherfucker," grunted Alan.

Gaige breathed a sigh of relief, clutching at her chest. "Thank God! He didn't…do anything, did he?"

"What's that mean?" asked the Siren.

"Well if that's the case, he obviously didn't."

"I think it's my turn, but I started this game a little too early," grunted Maya rubbing her head, having already had a few bottles to drink earlier. "Uh…never have I ever gotten a piercing that wasn't my ear."

Everyone drank at that except for Alan, with absolutely everyone being surprised by that one.

"Oh, where is it?" demanded Salvador.

Alan grinned, dropping his pants. "Its. I got the whole package. Prince Albert, Hafada, and Lorum. Makes sex amazing, I assure you."

"That's a lot of metal down there," grunted Friedan.

"That makes my junk hurt just looking at it," spoke Baldemar

"Avert your eyes!" yelled Gaige covering Aurai's eyes frantically.

"Why does Cousin Alan have piercings on his wee-wee?" she asked.

"Because he's a goddamn freak of nature, that's why!"

"Hey, it's addicting," stated the priest pulling his pants back up. "Makes airports problematic though."

Friedan grinned, realizing it was his turn. "Okay…never have I ever had a pet."

Only Aurai and Zero didn't drink, the reasons being obvious. The fact certain people did drink was surprising.

"You had a pet?" asked Maya to Wolfenstein.

"You had a childhood?" inquired Gaige amazed.

He grunted. "Of course. I was small once. I also have a pet now."

"No way!" yelled Alan excitedly, being a huge animal lover. "Get it out!"

The wereskag groaned, whistling sharply.

A small puppy, snow white in color, sprinted down the hall. It ran up to its owner's leg, the massive wereskag scratching its head gently.

"Good boy," whispered Wolfenstein quietly, picking him up. He set him in his lap, the small puppy climbing up and licking its owner's face.

"Oh, don't lick!" exclaimed the wereskag, genuinely laughing from the bottom of his heart. "You're a good boy Magnum! Yes you are! Yes you are!"

"I wish I could record this moment," spoke Gaige.

"On it," stated Alan. "Ten bucks and it's yours."

"Deal."

Wolfenstein glared at them. "I do have feelings you know. I just don't wear them like fashion statements like the rest of you."

"You're just a big softie!" jested Gaige. "Still sending love letters to Elena Tear?"

"…she has a mate. I dare not trespass such territory."

"That would be a yes," spoke Friedan.

Wolfenstein went back to his dog, legitimately happy in its company.

"Oh, is it my turn?" asked Jessup. "Fucking hell, what have I NOT done? Shit…oh, I got it! Never have I ever watched an episode of Doctor Who I didn't like!"

This time, only Friedan, Taika, Rocko, and Saprus didn't drink.

"Never liked Brit TV for some reason," spoke Taika. "Never stuck."

"Never watched it," added Friedan.

"Same," stated Rocko.

"I'm too busy reading British literature to watch their television," explained Saprus.

Wolfenstein grunted, annoyed it was his turn, as he had to take attention away from his puppy. "Fine. This one will get all of you. Never have I ever slept with anyone I loved."

Only Zero and Salvador didn't drink. The assassin simply dumped his drink on the floor, not wanting to take off his mask to anyone at the table. The berserker shrugged, his entire life having been devoted to murder and gunfire. Nothing else really came across his mind.

"Aw, you love me?" asked Maya falling into her husband's arms.

"Bitch, my sexual conquests are like Napoleon's," snapped Friedan grinning widely.

"Short and generally unimpressive in the long-term?" proposed Alan.

"Go to hell," grunted the psycho.

"You love me!" yelled Gaige grabbing her boyfriend. "You really do love me!"

"I was surprised as much as you are," spoke Baldemar.

"Oh boy, is it my turn?" inquired Rocko. "Alright motherfuckers, time to learn. An expert just stepped onto the plate, so you better listen up mate. Never have I ever murdered a defenseless man."

Slightly ashamed, Friedan, Maya, Salvador, Axton, Zero, Wolfenstein, Alan, and Jessup did not drink.

"I regret anything Krieg may have done before I took control," murmured Friedan.

"I'm not proud," spoke Maya.

"It was justified," grunted Salvador.

"It is a bad thing?/To kill a defenseless man?/I don't understand," stated Zero confused.

"I was hungry," murmured Wolfenstein.

"Even priests aren't devoid of sin," spoke Alan.

"Fuck nigga, don't be dropping heavy shit on me," snapped Jessup.

Gaige grinned, realizing it was her turn. "This one is going to surprise you all. Never have I ever sexted."

"Unfortunately," murmured Baldemar.

"I literally sleep in your room more than mine. Get over yourself."

The emotionless killers (Wolfenstein, Zero, Salvador, Axton, Friedan) obviously didn't drink, as well as Aurai (who did not understand what that term even meant), Katelyn, Baskerville, and Taika. That left some very surprising options.

"You sexted?!" asked Taika to Saprus amazed. "When?! With who?!"

"I had a life once!" argued the infected. "Jesus, I knew people before you! I'm 64!"

"How is the important question," grunted Alan. "Did you use carrier pigeons?"

"Go stick your metal junk in a garbage disposal, Catholic."

Katelyn stopped, realizing it was her turn. "Oh…I was hoping you'd all be intoxicated before my turn…uh…never have I ever smoked marijuana."

At that no one else drank, surprising the living hell out of her.

"What?! Even you Aurai?!"

"Cousin Alan let me try some! It was icky! Never again!"

"Well that's good…wait a minute, you did it too Wolfenstein?"

"I was a pup once," argued the wereskag. "I tried to fit into a crowd."

"…even Zero?"

"The plant cannabis/A simple and refined plant/It is very nice."

"Oh my God…"

Alan pulled out his trademark bong, forged from a Mason jar, and a lighter. "Just do it quick. One puff, because I got the strong stuff."

She rolled her eyes, proceeding to do so. She began panting, utterly amazed at the feeling. "Such a powerful sense of euphoria…no wonder Suture prescribes it as medicine."

"Okay, now don't be greedy," stated Baskerville. "I got a better idea, let's do this with bong hits instead of drinks!"

"Aurai, you are leaving right now," said Gaige hushing her out of the room.

"That's my cue to go," spoke Salvador. "I know what happens when me and Krieg get high."

"Which is why I'm leaving too," grunted Friedan. "We had to hire two plumbers and a swordsman to fix that mess."

"I abstain from the exercise," stated Wolfenstein.

"I'm leaving," snapped Axton.

Zero didn't even speak, simply opting to turn invisible and flee.

"Oh boy, this is going to be interesting," spoke Saprus. "Now I'm really glad I took my suit off today."

"You sure old-timer?" jested Taika. "Might worsen your health."

"Please, you ain't getting rid of me that easy."

"Good. I'd hate to lose you."

"Same. You are…my love."

"Love? I'm just doing this for your body."

Saprus grinned, inhaling the bong smoke. "You're so mean…and I like that."

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Hey Rich, let's play too!"**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Dude, we've BEEN playing. I've been keeping track of what they've been saying…so far I haven't drank a fucking drop."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Ah, sucks to suck nerd…wait, they mentioned sleeping with a man…"**

**[Richard McGuiness] "It was a SIMPLE MISTAKE! HE WAS VERY PRETTY!"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "…uh-huh…well I actually got something to say to our audience! Listen up loyal fans! We need some damn questions or something! We'd love to get your input into this story, especially because Sam sporadically gives it attention now that he goes to college, and he gives it more in proportion to the reviews and hits!"**

**[Richard McGuiness] "So…drop some reviews then! Okay, let's continue this game Scott! Give me a tough one!"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Fine! Uh…never have I ever…eaten gas station seafood!"**

**[Richard McGuiness] "…fuck! I got diarrhea just remembering that!"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "What sort of idiot are you!?"**

**[Richard McGuiness] "One of a kind! Later assholes!"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Tatty bye!"**


	26. Chapter 26: Business

Hemera slammed on the brakes as she made an extremely sharp turn, smoke flying from her tires. She regained motor control shortly, grunting in effort as if it had been her body to offer such resistance.

"Thing handles like a fucking spastic rhino," she murmured.

"That's offensive!" chimed Mortem.

"Good."

They finally reached the sewers of the race, the track immediately plunged into darkness. Only the bright strips on the side of the track kept the drivers in the lanes, and even that did very little.

"It reeks down here!" complained Lupus.

"Quit bitching," snapped Vika. "Could be worse."

A missile slammed into the back of their vehicle, nearly sending them careening towards the side of the wall. Only a quick boost of nitro from Hemera and a sharp turn prevented them from smashing into it.

"Speak of the devil!" roared Amon behind them, grinning widely.

"How does he always hear us?" asked Mortem confused.

"Listening devices!" explained the old geezer. "You youngsters got all sorts of cool gadgets! We used to use two tin cans attached by string! Fire second missile!"

Jefferson fired the second missile, Hemera actually managing to dodge that one. She noticed with disdain how the track was getting narrower. "Won't be able to dodge more of that."

"Third missile! Wait…what do you mean we only get two?!"

"Each rotation on missiles only gives us two to use," explained Jefferson blankly. "We have to land on missiles again to get more."

"Bugger all!"

Hemera grinned, running over a Sword tile. It landed right on grappling hooks, much to her pleasure.

"Hold on. This might rupture some internal organs."

"What do you…?" began Hemera.

Hemera floored it, blasting through the sewers. They rapidly approached Rob Bombly, who had fallen behind from the massive damage Whiskey Joe had down to his ride.

The Light Siren slammed into the side of his car, nearly forcing it over the side of the track. They were speeding over a long stretch of the sewer, the road floating above a massive pool of water. It was at least ten stories below, more than a lethal fall.

"Wat yo doing?!" demanded Rob Bombly.

"Dirty moves," admitted Hemera.

They both flew off the track, Rob Bombly screaming in panic as well as the passengers in the Vault Hunter ride.

"We're gonna fucking die!" shouted Lupus.

"I always liked you Vika!" admitted Mortem. "I thought you were funny as hell and a great drinking buddy! I'm sorry for everything I ever said!"

Hemera fired the grappling hooks at the ceiling, activating another shot of nitro from the tank. The car was dragged back towards the track, eventually reaching it in time for the grappling hooks to time out. The car landed with a stagger, but recovered quickly.

"Okay, I take everything I just said back!" screamed Mortem. "Screw you Vika, and Lupus, and Hemera, and every other person in this story! In fact, screw the entire audience! And the world around that audience! Screw any physical or mental entity within any dimensions ever!"

"We get it!" snapped Lupus.

"Dat leaves Wiskay Joe," spoke Vika. "Wat we gon do?"

"Kill the son of a bitch," snapped Hemera. "Or beat him. Either option is fine."

Racer X suddenly appeared, his black helmet staring right at them. The roof of his car opened up, revealing a strange type of firearm.

A blue laser flew from the firearm, boiling the metal off their vehicle's roof. Hemera sped up to avoid more of it, cutting a long jagged line through their vehicle.

"That's not fair!" complained Mortem. "Why does he get lasers and shit?!"

Vika paused, thinking of a possible solution. She pulled out a mirror from her pocket, shattering it against the armrest to give her a shard of reflective glass.

Racer X fired again, right through her window. Quick as lightning, Vika deflected the laser with her mirror shard, aiming it right back at its source.

The blue laser, now redirected from the mirror, sliced through Racer X's engine and detonating it. Vika burst into laughter, absolutely surprised that even worked.

"I luv being right!" she shouted out of breath, mildly sad no one would believe what she had done.

"Why haven't I done anything yet interesting?" asked Mortem depressed.

"Can you summon zombies going at 170mph?" inquired Hemera.

"Well…no."

"Then keep navigating."

Mortem pouted. "Meanie."

They noticed Whiskey Joe ahead, as well as the exit. It was almost a solid mile away, but that was rapidly narrowing due to their speed. Whiskey Joe was laughing, certain in his victory.

"Anything?" questioned Hemera.

"Not a damn thing," stated Mortem.

"I refuse to lose," stated the Siren calmly. Then she grinned.

"What's with the grin?" spoke Lupus. "It's wide but also disturbing."

"Reach into my breast pocket. I got a shard of Eridium in there."

"On it!" spoke Mortem. She quickly began copping a feel, eyebrows raised. "Goddamn these are soft…what size are you?"

"Larger than you. Right breast pocket."

Mortem murmured something under her breath and extracted the Eridium crystal. "What do you plan to do with this?"

Hemera then grabbed it, popping it into her mouth and swallowing it.

Vika and Lupus unconsciously strapped themselves in tighter, knowing exactly what she had planned. It wasn't going to be pretty.

Hemera coughed, her entire body beginning to glow yellow. She was shaking violently, her muscles being thrown into spasms as pure power flowed through her veins. She was moving so fast her clothing began to disintegrate and burn, the leather on the steering wheel already singed.

Then she injected the energy into the vehicle, covering the Heartbreaker in golden light. It flew across the track, literally floating across the asphalt.

Whiskey Joe looked back only to gawk with an open mouth as the Heartbreaker sped right past him, breaking the sound barrier and shattering all the windows on his car.

The Heartbreaker tore across the finish line, the light sputtering and dying. The vehicle was rapidly breaking down, the tires finally giving out and popping to shreds. Hemera fought for control as her power began to fade, but that also entailed a lack of concentration.

"Get ready for a harsh stop," she warned.

The car then flipped, slamming onto its roof and dragging across the asphalt harshly. It stopped after colliding with a wall, shattering its windows.

The Octanes quickly sent out a rescue team, only to see the riders crawling out from the holes in the windows.

"Oh God, I'm gonna hurl," spoke Lupus proceeding to do so.

Mortem joined him, not even able to gasp out any words.

"Good thin I'm really dead, or dat would ave sucked," grunted Vika stumbling out of the car, still not having obtained her balance yet.

Hemera got out of the car, staggering for a step or two before grinning widely. She whooped with joy, fists raised high.

"Let's do that again!" she shouted excitedly, like a child.

"No!" screamed her teammates.

"You guys are no fun!"

Nitro paused, noticing Whiskey Joe cross the finish line. He quickly did a mental list, counting off the people who had been destroyed during the race.

"…where's the Watchdogs?" he asked nervously.

* * *

"See, I told you this was the right idea!" spoke Amon adamantly. "This was the only way to do it without arousing suspicion!"

"And when someone questions our disappearance?" asked Jefferson.

"We died or something, who cares?"

"I am tolerant of your eccentric nature Amon, but you must learn to…"

"Bebabduh," spoke Amon in total gibberish, mocking him.

Jefferson paused, before attempting again. "You must learn to…"

"Qwibbly da dodapo!" shouted Amon.

"You must learn to…!"

"Wabba lakokako!"

"Listen to me Amon!"

"Never!" exclaimed Amon adamantly. "Stop being so stiff Jefferson! You're supposed to be the Hanged Man, not the Hard Man! Heh, get it?"

"Unfortunately, I do."

They both stopped at the doorway, Amon knocking in it without a second's hesitation.

A long metal spike stabbed through the wood, narrowly stopping at Amon's left eye.

"Who is it?" asked the voice from behind it, all eloquence and sweetness.

"Skeleton Jack," spoke Amon grinning, not concerned about the spike ready to gouge out his eye. "I'm here with the Hanged Man. We want to talk Davis."

"Call me by the name you know me as," stated the voice on the other side, withdrawing its spike. "Penetrator."

"Of course Penetrator."

"What do you wish to discuss?"

"…this Vault. You have a key, right?"

The voice was silent, only for the door to open. No one was standing there, the spike from earlier having been an elaborate trap on the door.

"Come into my abode gentlemen. Let's discuss…business."


	27. Chapter 27: Wet and Sticky

Amon and Jefferson walked through the S&amp;M club calmly, moving with notable ease through the suspended masochists and attending sadists. There were all sorts of fluids all across the floor, some of them even they didn't know were, and cries of pleasure mixed with pain filled the air.

"Honestly, I hate these people," murmured Amon. "Bondage and sadomasochism is weird, but no biggie for me. But what these people do…half the people in this room aren't even conceding to this. It's disgusting. In my day, we'd line them up and shoot them."

"Times change," argued Jefferson.

"Is change always a good thing Jefferson?" snapped Amon with genuine anger on his face. "If society changes to where these rapists become the norm, I'd go on my own little Fifth Crusade. Stack their bodies in front of New Jerusalem for all to see."

"Whether it is right or wrong is irrelevant."

They both paused, noticing Davis Dahmer walking towards them. He was dressed in his normal business attire, though he was notably sweaty. He appeared to have been in some of the displays going on around the club as well, evidenced from the bruises around his neck and arms.

"We don't really care if what we do is right or wrong," continued Davis calmly, twirling a long metal needle in his hand. "What matters to us is what feels good and what doesn't. Any other system of morality won't apply to us. It'd be like speaking to a person in a foreign language; it wouldn't accomplish anything."

Amon grunted, rolling his eyes. "Listen, we need information on this Vault. More specifically, how you managed to secure a key, and if there are any other ways to open it."

"That's a reasonable thing to ask," spoke Davis. "However, I need some information as well. Perhaps a trade?"

"This is information, so one person has to go first," snapped Amon. "To be honest, I don't trust you enough to let myself go first."

"Fair enough. For the sake of chivalry, I'll go first."

Davis sat down, ordering a water to replenish his body. "The first question is easy. I asked the Clowns for their key, and they gave it to me."

Amon raised an eyebrow. "What? They gave it to you?"

"It wasn't that hard."

"How did they get theirs?"

"I don't know."

Davis took a sip of water, continuing. "The second question is harder. Besides the key I possess and the one Eddy has, I know no other way to open the Vault. It certainly is possible, considering the Clowns were able to obtain a key to begin with, but I don't know."

Amon grunted. "That's no more information than we started with."

"Ask an obvious question, get an obvious answer," argued Davis.

Amon smirked. "I got a hard one for you then. Where's Mockingbird?"

The Deviant legitimately paused, some of the water he was drinking spilling out of his lips. He quickly wiped it off, coughing.

"W-who? I have no idea who you're talking about."

"Don't be ignorant," snapped Amon leaning forward with a grin. "The ever-present threat to the world's stability, possibly more than the Revolutionaries and Crimson Raiders combined. We've traced him since his birth along with his sister, who now goes by Mary Jane."

"Hey boss, ain't that the bitch you…?" began Humbert.

"Shut up you buffoon!" screamed Davis.

Amon chuckled. "Come on, you have to have noticed him. He's a lot like you after all."

Davis glared at him, shutting the old man up.

"That child is no more a threat than my incompetent underlings beside me. He's a spoiled brat throwing a temper tantrum, while I'm a sophisticated man who knows exactly what he desires out of life."

"And what is that?"

Davis's eyes lit up with passion. "The ultimate pain. I want to plummet straight to Hell and just barely kept from falling in. I want to transcend this mortal body with pain so agonizing it threatens to drive me mad. I want to be killed but not die."

Amon narrowed his eyes. "You're insane."

"Driven men typically are. Which reminds me of my portion of the deal…"

"You didn't finish my questions."

Davis smiled. "Consider this deal: You answer my sole question, and I tell you where Mockingbird is. How's that for a trade?"

Amon sighed, tired of this conversation. "Whatever. What's the question?"

"Where's Red Death?"

Amon and Jefferson shared a look. Obviously Davis was referring to Simo Hathcock, one of the Vault Hunters. Any reason he would want to see him likely tied into his previously mentioned goal in life, which was not a good thing. While they both were merciless government men, they had their honor. Killing your enemy was allowed. Handing them to a torturer and rapist was another matter entirely.

"We can't tell you," spoke Amon calmly.

Davis sighed, clapping his hands. The various people in the room began walking out quickly, no longer interested in the activities they had been participating in. If the boss was signaling like that, something bad was about to happen.

"You little cretin," snapped Amon furiously. "We are Watchdogs, the scum that rules over all scum. You dare?"

"Oh, I won't. I'm tired. Katherine, how about you?"

"I'm out," grunted the female lieutenant walking away.

"Very well. Humbert, Francois?"

"Oh God count me in," grunted Humbert yanking out his knife.

"I could use some fun," spoke Francois cracking his knuckles.

"Excellent. I want one alive. Pick which one."

The room was emptied of everyone but the four combatants, staring into each other's eyes intimidatingly.

"I'm thinking we keep the old man," stated Humbert. "He's got quite the mouth on him."

"Same," spoke Francois.

"Now listen you little whippersnappers…" threatened Amon unfurling his briefcase whip. "I'm not in the mood for this, so depart before I beat you like the naughty children you are."

Humbert flew forward, driving a knife straight through Jefferson's sternum. He grinned, before he realized that his blow had no effect at all on the military man.

Jefferson raised two fingers and snapped them right in front of Humbert's face.

A fiery explosion flew from his fingertips, throwing Humbert across the room and shattering tables in his way. He groaned as he stood back up, covered in burns and bruises.

"How did…?" he asked weakly.

"I'm immortal," spoke Jefferson calmly. He began rapidly snapping his fingers, throwing the twins back across the room with massive blasts of flames.

Humbert then slid through the flames, the fire seemingly slipping off his body. He was covered in a pink aura similar to water, bubbling and waving. He dashed across the floor, his aura granting him extreme speed and agility.

Amon swung his whip at the pedophile, only for his eyes to widen in shock. His whip slid clean off Humbert's aura, making a loud splash upon hitting him.

"Watch out Jefferson! He's covered in water!" observed Amon.

Humbert reached Amon, slashing at his face. The old man dodged nimbly, slugging him in the face. Humbert's aura splashed on the impact, but did not break.

Jefferson tried to reach his partner, only for Francois to join his brother. He was covered in a bright purple aura, this one more similar to chewing gum in texture.

He flicked his finger, a tendril of the purple aura flying off and attaching to Jefferson's face.

He threw his arm back, Jefferson being pulled like a fish on a string. He slammed into a column, shattering it with his massive body.

"What sort of powers are these?!" yelled Amon. "Who are you two?!"

Humbert grinned, but didn't say anything, neither did his brother. They simply kept fighting, using their opponent's ignorance to their advantage.

Jefferson was tugged along by the string on his cheek, being thrown into various parts of the room. He was bruised and bleeding, but gave no indication he even felt the injuries.

Then he snapped his fingers, Francois's eyes exploding into flames. He screamed in pain and clutched at them desperately, smoke flying from his face.

"How does it feel for your eyes to boil?" inquired Jefferson blandly. "I imagine it would be painful, if you feel pain of course."

Francois looked up, his eyes having regenerated back. "You…motherfucker…"

Jefferson snapped and Francois's tongue then exploded, causing him to begin screeching and wailing incoherently as his tongue turned to bubbling muscle and blood.

"Watch your mouth," spoke Jefferson. "It's rude to swear to superiors."

Humbert flew in to help his brother, slicing at Jefferson several times. The military man dodged most of the attacks, but one managed to hit across the back of his dominant hand. He raised his hand to snap, then noticed his fingers did not move.

"You still have nerves, huh?" whispered Humbert. "Even an immortal can't function without his bodily systems intact."

Jefferson grunted, raising his other hand to snap. The air around Humbert exploded, but his watery aura prevented the flames from hitting his skin.

Amon spun his whip, hitting the tendril attaching Jefferson to Francois. He kept swinging, aiming right at Francois.

The necrophile took the hit, the whip burrowing into his arm but sticking there. He then charged at Amon, fists raised to strike.

Amon then grinned, detaching the section of the whip stuck in Francois's shoulder. He spun wildly, this time hitting Francois across the throat.

The necrophile gasped, blood pouring down his shirt and across the floor. He stumbled backwards, grasping at the wound to make it regenerate faster.

Then Jefferson lit him ablaze with several snaps of his fingers, Francois not even able to scream from agony.

"Bro!" yelled Humbert enraged. He lopped off Jefferson's pointer and middle fingers, preventing him from snapping again. He grabbed his brother, running off into the back door of the club.

He smirked, holding up a button. "Say hi to my eldest brother for me, would you?"

He pushed it, a loud ticking noise emitting from the floor. The twins ran off deeper into the club, the two Watchdogs knowing exactly what that ticking was.

"Bomb!" shouted Jefferson. He hoisted his partner onto his shoulder, sprinting out to the front door as quickly as possible. The ticking got louder and with fewer seconds between each tick, turning into an incessant whining noise.

Jefferson threw his partner out the door, the bomb going off just at that moment. The club was turned to ashes behind him, throwing Jefferson a solid twenty feet from the blast site and into a ditch.

Amon cleared his head, unsteadily standing up. He looked at his partner's burning body, eyes widening.

"Jefferson! Jefferson!" he screamed running for him. "Respond!"

He rolled his partner over, noting his unconscious state. He was covered in severe burns, his body slowly trying to get itself back to normal. He wasn't dead, or close to it, but he needed to find a bed and rest to get back into business.

"I got you buddy," spoke Amon hefting his larger partner onto his back. He began marching back to their hideout, his pride more bruised than his body.

"Two perverts managed to get us…" whispered the old man. He tightened his grip on his partner's body in rage. "That's unacceptable."

* * *

**[Richard McGuiness] "Okay Scott, this is ridiculous. Are you telling me those twins' powers are to get wet and sticky?"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "…wow. Normally I notice details like that first."**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Come on! That's…goddamn that's disgusting! What's the girl's power than? Get hard?!"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Hopefully. That'd be a sight to see."**

**[Richard McGuiness] "You need serious help."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "You brought it up!"**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Whatever. By the way, what did Humbert mean by elder brother? I thought they were twins."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "They are. Before, they were triplets. They killed the eldest though, making them twins."**

**[Richard McGuiness] "They…killed their older brother?"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Yep."**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Why?"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "They both gave the same reason: to prove they were better than the other."**

**[Richard McGuiness] "So the ultimate in sibling rivalry gone bad?"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Basically."**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Ugh, god. These Deviants are getting more disgusting and revolting the more we learn about them."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "I think we both can agree on that."**


	28. Chapter 28: Temper Tantrum

Ningyo glanced at the monitors provided for him by Nitro, analyzing the various footage he had collected over the last few days. Each video was glimpses of Bellum operatives, though each one was completely unrelated to the other. They seemed to be scattered across the prison randomly, and only for seconds at a time. He never got a good indication of what they were actually doing in any of these places either, so he had taken no steps forward.

"Damn it," grunted the trickster lighting a cigarette with his metal gloves. "I can't believe they're doing such a good job disguising their presence. Any luck Sven?"

He paused, looking around. "Sven? Where'd you go?"

* * *

"Come on Number 5!" screamed Paula nearly throwing herself from her seat, her upper body over the railing on the race track.

"Kick that shit out of her Number 3!" shouted Dion, holding a fistful of betting tickets.

"Win Number 4!" yelled Sven, completely abandoning his serious tone.

The cars flew over the finish line, displaying the number of the winner above their heads. Many of them were not pleased.

"That's shit!" exclaimed Dude throwing her betting tickets. "Not that I know, cause I can't shit anymore!"

"Dogfuckers, the lot of them!" roared Dion.

Sven whooped with joy, throwing up his arms along with a massive cloud of sand. "I won! I am victorious!"

"Enjoy it towelhead, I got you in the next one," snarled Paula.

"Drink run!" spoke Bartholomew, opening up the long row of cup holders on both his arms. "Two beers per?"

"I want four martinis," stated Paula.

"Bottle of rubbing alcohol," murmured Dion. "And yes, I can drink it. It's an amazing high."

"Three chocolate milks," said Dude. "With extra whipped cream."

Bartholomew nodded, having typed their orders into a small datapad onto his wrist. "Okay…on it."

"Shouldn't you be helping Ningyo?" asked Dude glancing at her partner.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," murmured the mummy drinking his beer. He coughed, releasing wet mud from his mouth. "Beer loses the effects when you're made of sand."

"Try being dead."

* * *

Ningyo paused, glancing at the monitor curiously. He had noticed something, a new face among the Bellum operatives. Obviously, he had been expecting John and Jane, Karasu, and Bathory Sanguine, but there was a new operative among them. He could only see a portion of his face, but that was all he needed.

"That's one ugly SOB," he noted. "Tall too."

"You talking to your boyfriend?" asked Dion walking into the room. He was obviously hammered out of his mind, moving with a notable stumble.

"Investigating footage. I thought you were at the race."

"I got kicked out. Turns out threatening to rip the concession stand employees' heads off and using them as condoms is grounds for expulsion. No sense of humor."

He stopped dead, his eyes widening in shock. "No way…he can't be working with them."

"You know this guy?" asked Ningyo astonished.

Dion snarled, his body heating up rapidly. "You could say that. His name is Masher. He's not a good guy."

* * *

Masher slammed the man's head onto the concrete, splattering his body with blood and gore. He kept doing this until there was little left of him, throwing him into the gutter soon after.

"You know, beating up hobos loses its touch after the first seven," murmured the giant, still dressed in massive armor.

"I imagine sir," spoke Carnifex.

"God, there ain't shit to do in this city. Think there's a titty bar nearby? I got a couple fivers."

"I doubt it sir. This area appears to be fairly abandoned. Exactly why, I don't know."

They heard someone behind them, Masher aiming his rifle in their general direction He could barely see through the dark streets, but took no changes with who it was.

"Yo," snapped the giant. "Identify your ass before I do so post-mortem."

"Davis Dahmer, leader of the Deviants," spoke the person smiling softly. He had his hands up. "See? I have no weapons."

"Last time I bought that, I lost a testicle," grunted Masher. "The fuck you want, pervert?"

Davis visibly winced, but kept talking. "I heard about you from reputation, Masher. I was hoping to employ you."

"Already working for a group of chimpfuckers to pay my brother's bills," spoke the giant. "Ain't happy about it, but I got to."

"How about you get a job you'll enjoy?" inquired Davis. "Minimal work, loads of submissive women to do with as you please. That is your thing, right?"

"My 'thing' is taking care of my baby brother you fucking disgusting piece of human shit," snapped Masher. "So unless you're willing to offer me more cash than Bellum, you should go back to your little orgy pit and go fuck a horse or something. Besides, gave up that sex thing a while go. I get my rocks off by beating assholes to death. Lot less emotions involved."

Davis was actually shaking from rage, but never let an ounce of it appear on his face. "Well, that's…a shame. Especially considering Bellum is going down the toilet since Tediore and Maliwan left the alliance."

"Those cheap bastards and stuck-up bitches were shitty allies anyway," noted Masher. "The Universal Government was a smarter choice."

"Do you agree with it?"

"Agree with what? I'm a freelancer. I couldn't give a shit less. I want my money, and that's it."

He placed his rifle on his shoulders, cracking his neck. "I gotta get back actually. Need to collect a payment. Good day pervert."

Masher left then, Davis waiting a solid thirty seconds before he let his anger overtake him. He broke into an episode that was indistinguishable from a seizure, foaming at the mouth and jittering all his muscles at once. He began throwing garbage all around him, absolutely infuriated.

Finally, Davis managed to calm himself down after a few minutes. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the slobber from his mouth and the blood from his knuckles, having repeatedly punched the walls and sidewalk nearby in frustration. He had these occasional fits of rage, though refused to seek treatment for them. He despised medication, citing the Junkies as proof that modern medicine was simply painkillers and excrement injected into your veins.

"I am fine, I am in control," he whispered, believing those words immediately. "I must find Red Death. I must find him."

He then walked off, his head low to shield his sensitive eyes.

**[Richard McGuiness] "Good God, the hell is wrong with Davis? Medically I mean, I know what else is wrong."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Uh…apparently he was assaulted a few years ago, when he was still a body artist. It was severe enough to develop into dementia, which is where his criminal record starts. Aggravated assault, sexual misconduct, even an attempted murder. It wasn't until the rape charges came in that he got locked up here. Before then, totally clean. Paid taxes on time, recycled, even volunteered at his church. Whatever part that attacker scrambled, it really screwed with him."**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Huh…doesn't excuse anything, right?"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Nope. Not a bit."**


	29. Chapter 29: Masks

Dr. Ivanlove screamed in horror, his recently painted nails placed onto his cheeks to emulate a certain Edvard Munch painting. "What have you done with the Heartbreaker?!"

Hemera smirked, chuckling. "Uh…used it."

"Used? You _use_ condoms and cell phones! You've screwed our ride to the point I'm surprised it is not falling apart now!"

As if on cue, the steering wheel of the Heartbreaker fell off and rolled to Dr. Ivanlove's feet, causing him to go beet red in anger.

"This is just great!" he shouted. "I am not having you all ride this vehicle again!"

"Sir," spoke an aide.

"What?!"

"The supply crates are here. From their winnings."

"How many?"

"Twenty sir."

Dr. Ivanlove paused, then draped an arm over Hemera's shoulders. "I wouldn't worry about this. It's a little…beat up. It'll be ready for the next race. When is that?"

"Tomorrow."

Dr. Ivanlove let out a noise very similar to scream, albeit only in his throat and behind closed teeth. 'Okay then. We'll get it ready."

"Good."

Hemera yawned, walking off. "God I'm beat. There anything good to eat in this place?"

As soon as she left the room, Dr. Ivanlove began screaming at the top of his lungs, throwing his head back dramatically.

"I like the winnings, but look at my baby!" he yelled cradling the broken steering wheel with tears in his eyes. "I can't let her go back out there and get torn up like that again!"

Mortem slapped him across the face. "Get a hold of yourself!"

Dr. Ivanlove slapped her right back. "You get a hold of yourself! The bond between transvestite and vehicle is far more sacred than you could ever understand! When God came down to man in the Garden, he asked man whether he would have a vehicle or a woman."

"So he chose woman?" asked Lupus confused.

"No! Man chose vehicle, but God ignored him and made woman anyway. Anyway, this is awful! We're going to need a master technician to fix this!"

Ningyo sighed, pulling out his ECHO. "Calling Bartholomew."

* * *

"Hey Simo, can I ask you a question?" asked Lupus lying in bed.

"Go ahead my guitar-playing friend," replied Simo polishing his rifle.

"Why's your name Red Death? Where'd you get that sort of nickname?"

Simo paused before answering. "…I used to be a sniper working for a criminal organization named Red Thorn. I was there go-to assassin, the Red Death. I…"

The sniper rubbed his temples. "They…manipulated my mind. They planted false memories into my brain and used those to fuel a killer impulse. My signature was the grisly ways I killed people as well as…the crying."

"Who cries when they kill people?" asked Mortem astonished.

"You do if you're reliving memories of people abusing and bullying you," argued Simo. "I lashed out at the memories with tears pouring down my face, and only after did I see I had killed a real person instead. Of course, I was able to rip the memories out eventually."

He smiled pleasantly, though it had a tinge of sadness. "I'm all better now."

A knock was heard at the door, the Vault Hunters quickly looking up to see Dr. Ivanlove. He looked serious for once, his face blank.

"…which one of you is named Red Death?" he asked quietly.

Simo slowly raised his hand.

Dr. Ivanlove paled, gripping the door frame. "…if that's the case, I have someone you need to go to. He's a mask maker. You'll need a disguise."

"Why?" asked Mortem. "Who's after us?"

"Davis Dahmer, the leader of the Deviants, is after your friend Red Death."

"What does a pervert want with me?" inquired the sniper nervously.

"I don't know, or want to know," responded Dr. Ivanlove. "You're going to need a mask so he doesn't recognize you on sight. Here's his address. Bring the others too. They might be wanted by others too."

* * *

Lupus glanced at the address and the building, eyebrows raised. "Well, this is the street."

The building looked like an old tattoo parlor, the stained glass in the front now replaced with metal beams and wooden boards. It had a Guy Fawkes mask on the front door, indicating its function, but the door was locked and tight.

Ningyo knocked on the door.

A slot in the door opened quickly, revelaing a pair of black eyes.

"Go away," snapped the eyes before the slot was quickly closed.

Ningyo narrowed his eyes and knocked again. The eyes returned shortly.

"Pizza delivery man?" asked the eyes.

"What?" inquired Ningyo confused.

"Amazon man?"

"…no."

"Then get the hell out of here!"

The slot closed again. Ningyo began to get annoyed and knocked even harder. The eyes immediately sprung out.

"Look mister, I have an Ebola mine below that welcome mat."

"That's not very welcoming," murmured Mortem.

"It's irony!" argued the eyes.

"Oh, is there a female?" asked a new voice, a new pair of eyes joining the first. These new eyes were distinctively female, having a higher voice and eyeliner. "Is it a hooker?"

"You're married you dumb bitch!"

"Hey, no need to be an ass! I was going to propose some fun with her with both of us! I'm a generous sort of wife!"

"We're Catholic! Polyfidelity isn't tolerated in our religion!"

"Then we're converting to Mormon immediately! Bring her in!"

"No!"

"We're here to buy masks you dumb pieces of human garbage!" screamed Hemera, absolutely tired of their idiocy.

The eyes glanced at each other.

"Oh, a customer," spoke the male eyes.

"We like customers," stated the female eyes.

"This one is particularly rude."

"But one of them's a hooker."

The door opened, revealing a sole figure. He was a thin and short man wearing black leather. Most notably, his eyes had black sclera, making him appear like some sort of demonic figure.

"Good evening," spoke the man elegantly. "My name is Baravan Black."

"Where's the other?" inquired Ningyo confused.

"Who?"

Hemera rolled her eyes. "Whatever. We need masks. We got money. Let's just get this over with."

"Oh, direct," noted Baravan. "Excellent."

He grabbed Simo, dragging him into the building. "This one first."

He threw Simo onto a black leather chair, twirling him around a few times to get a good look at him.

"Okay honey, let's get started," spoke the mask maker pulling out a clipboard. "Are you a fan of…leather?"

"Uh…"

"Leather it is. Full face?"

"Uh…"

"Full face it is. One more thing…"

He crouched down and leaned in close, nearly pressing his nose against Simo's. "What do you think about…S&amp;M?"

"Not really…"

"Oh, well neither am I. What's your name?"

"Simo Hathcock."

"Okay, well, that's no good. Give me a nickname, a professional name, something."

"…Red Death."

Baravan paled considerably. "…oh. Never heard that before."

"Liar!" screamed a female voice from the stairway, charging in towards Baravan. She was dressed just like him, up to the black eyes. "Liar!"

"Don't listen to her, she's crazy!" snapped Baravan.

"I'm not crazy, I'm your wife, Beatrice!"

"What's the difference?!"

"You've heard of Red Death! That guy, Davis, talked about him!"

Baravan cringed, shivering. "You know I hate that name!"

"What, Davis?"

"Auuauuagh!" screamed Baravan in disgust and frustration. "Stop saying that!"

"Davis, Davis, Davis!"

"Augh! Get back devil woman wife!"

"Why is that pervert after Simo?" asked Hemera.

"Oh, he's crazy!" spoke Baravan. "He's got that look in his eyes, like a mad dog! He wants to do…things to him! And he wants Red Death to do things to him!"

"Tell them!" yelled Beatrice.

"I don't know anything else! Honest!"

Ningyo pulled out a shotgun, cocking it. "Thanks. Now time to die."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" shouted Simo getting in the way. "Why?"

"They know who you are! They tell Davis, you die!"

"I wouldn't tell that disgusting piece of filth anything!" snapped Baravan. "I hate him with every fiber of my being. Your secret is safe with me, honest!"

Ningyo snarled, but put his gun away. "If not, I'll be back to blow both of your brains out."

"I think we'll charge him double," spoke Beatrice.

"I think so too," stated Baravan. "Billy!"

"What?!" snapped a large man emerging from the back, holding an ice pack to his head. "God, my head. I never should've mixed tequila and rum. Captain Morgan hates Truxicans."

"Warned you," spoke Baravan. "Now stop making me regret having brought you into my shop and grab the measuring tape!"

"Wait, Baravan Black, Beatrice Black, Billy Black…" murmured Mortem. "I should call Baldemar. There's a lot of Blacks here."

"That's racist," noted Ningyo.

"That's hipster."

"That's white."

"That's racist."

The Jananice snapped his metal fingers. "Damn."

* * *

**[Richard McGuiness] "So, Sam…back again…"**

**[Samuel Keller] "Yes Rich. Something new to confess?"**

**[Richard McGuiness] "No. Nothing. I have no idea why my house smells like lye. None whatsoever. I think I should call a plumber."**

**[Samuel Keller] "…okay…well Rich, I'm here for a reason, but not for your…household problems. I was asked by a friend to assign songs to other characters besides the main cast, which can be found on their respective pages in the initial story. This was also the reason this chapter took so long, as it took forever to figure some out. Here's a list of major villains/side characters and their theme song if you will."**

Josef Muller: "War Is All We Know" by GWAR

Mockingbird: "BileDriver" by GWAR

Karasu: "Flash Pan Hunter/Intro" by Tom Waits

John and Jane: "Twincest" by Le Sexoflex (I am so sorry, I couldn't think of anything else. Even if the song is about homosexual twins and not John and Jane's relationship, nothing else fit so perfectly)

Bathory Sanguine: "Venus in Furs" by Velvet Underground

Masher: "When You're Evil" by Voltaire

Knight Sven the Planet Slayer: "Zombie" by Miser

Elena Tear "The Shark Maiden": "Iron" by Within Temptation

Nitro: "The Man Without Fear" by Drowning Pool featuring Rob Zombie

Jackal Cash "Demon Ymir": "Soldier" by Eminem

Mr. Vangorium: "Fear is the Weakness" by In Flames

Edward the Kidd "Grey-Dog Killer": "The Emperor's New Clothes" by Panic at the Disco

Vladimir Cain "Wicked Cain": "Jock O'Braidosly" by The Corries

Dude "Grandmaster": "Across the Rainbow Bridge" by Amon Amarth

Sven "Bleeding Melancholy": "I'm Alive" by Disturbed

Dr. Ivanlove: "Sweet Transvestite" by Rocky Horror Picture Show

Mary Jane: "All the Time (Tove Lo Flip)" by Keys N Krates

Croix Sonore "Demon of Song": "Tears" by Document One

Wallace "Marshall": "Dig" by Mudvayne

Amon "Skeleton Jack": "Exciter" by Judas Priest

Jefferson "The Hanged Man": "A Man Ain't Made of Stone" by Randy Travis

Davis Dahmer: "Mein Teil" by Ramnstein

Humbert: "The Janitor" by Apathy

Francois: "Sarah" by Tyler the Creator

Catherine: "The One" by Elena Siegman

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Okay Sam, I actually know a few of those songs…you need to explain as well as some therapy."**

**[Samuel Keller] "Okay, hear me out. Some of the songs need to be taken figuratively, not literally. The one I want to explain right now is Davis's song, 'Mien Tiel' by Ramnstein. It's a song based on a true event, the cannibal Armin Meiwes. I'd seriously recommend a strong stomach for continuing, so this is fair warning right now. So what the idea of the song is from the victim's perspective about being eaten and receiving a borderline sexual pleasure from it. This represents what Davis wants with Simo, aka Simo "eating" him in some twisted masochistic ritual. Of course, I won't spoil how that turns out."**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Of course not. Still, that's gross as hell. By the way, why aren't anyone from the second DLC here?"**

**[Samuel Keller] "Oh, I hate that DLC in hindsight. No good developed characters with any complexity. I really regret writing that one."**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Well…we can't argue that."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Nope. If we did, that'd be self-praise, and that's a little masturbatory."**

**[Samuel Keller] "Yeah, but at least this story is still moderately popular judging by my views per month. I just wish someone would drop a damn review."**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Oh, after this list, you got a few incoming. Mostly WTF's, but reviews nonetheless."**

**[Samuel Keller] "Excellent. I guess that's all."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Tatty bye!"**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Later dicktits!"**


	30. Chapter 30: We Wear The Mask

"Finished!" spoke Bartholomew wiping his brow, his metallic hand covered in grease.

Dr. Ivanlove let out a joyful screech, running over to the Heartbreaker. "My baby! It's like brand new! You're a miracle worker!"

He kissed the hood, noting how it was even waxed and polished. "How'd you manage this?"

"Fastening, tightening, and plenty of rum," explained the pirate gulping down another glass of the alcoholic substance. "Gotta head back now. Eddy will notice if I'm gone from my district from too long."

"Wait!" spoke Dr. Ivanlove. "Are you sure you don't accept payment? I'll offer you anything for this. Riches, women…rich women! Name it, up to half my proverbial kingdom."

"I raided your rum collection," stated Bartholomew sheepishly. "I consider that payment enough."

Dr. Ivanlove paused, then sighed in mild annoyance. "Fair enough."

* * *

Mortem glanced at the other people concerned, pointing to the bathroom door. "Uh… is Suture still in there?"

"Told him not to eat sushi," murmured Jackal.

"No, it's Fallout 4," spoke Simo.

"Well I'm tired of him hogging the place, so I'm going in," snapped Mortem. She paused, shuddering. "God, I just imagined if he was playing…something else."

"Be careful if his pants are down," advised Vika.

"Yeah, you and dicks have a magnetic relationship," noted Hemera.

"Kill yourself supernova!" roared the Grave Knight.

She ripped the door open, exposing the interior of the bathroom. She flew away in disgust, covering her eyes.

Suture was lying naked in the tub, his laptop placed on the toilet beside him on the lid. He looked up at everyone, his face tanned from the intense brightness of his computer.

"Problem?" asked the professor.

"Uh…are you…?" inquired Jackal legitimately confused. He made a masturbatory motion to give the doctor the hint.

"I don't masturbate, it takes time away from Fallout 4," spoke Suture calmly.

"Okay, intervention time," stated Lupus grabbing the doctor.

"Let go of me plebs!" shouted the professor. "If I wasn't dehydrated, I would murder you!"

Simo investigated Suture's screen, eyebrows raised. "Wow, nice settlement Suture."

"Thank you, now give me back that computer!"

Jackal slapped him several times, shaking him afterwards. "Get a hold of yourself, doctor! You did the same thing when Skyrim came out! Remember?"

Suture shivered in fear, or possible because of the cold hitting his tender bits. "…you're right of course. But…but…Nick Valentine…"

"I don't know who that is, and I don't care," admitted Jackal. "Get a shower, get some clothes, get some food, in that order."

"…yeah."

Someone knocked at the door, his head poking through immediately afterwards.

"Hello!" said Dr. Ivanlove cheerfully, before noting a naked Suture and a crying Mortem in the corner. "…I thought of three possible scenarios to why I'm seeing what I'm seeing, and all of them are kinda gross. So I shall ignore this and continue with my business."

He carried in a cardboard box, placing it on one of their bed. "Baravan finished your masks."

"Already?" asked Mortem skeptically.

"Well one of you needs it immediately, and he knew masking only one person first would arouse suspicion. So here's yours, Simo."

Simo glanced skeptically at the red leather cloth, noting how large it was. It was more of a hood, the red cloth running down to the middle of his shoulders and sternum. The flat front was tight and see-through, but was cool and metallic to the touch. It looked similar to an executioner's mask with a large hood, only the metallic eye sockets and red color taking away from it.

"…I fail to see how this makes me look less like Red Death," argued Simo.

"Yeah, that's some freaky shit," noted Lupus.

"He knows your face, so that's what we needed to disguise," explained Dr. Ivanlove. "Besides, he knows that you know that he is after you, so he knows you'll likely disguise yourself. Because he knows that, he assumes you're disguising yourself as something subtle, something that makes you look inconspicuous. So he's going to assume your disguise is way too obvious, and look right over you."

"…in what world does that make any sense?" asked Lupus.

"Shut up guitar man and take a mask."

The masks were distributed out, each person trying them out. Lupus was given a comedy/tragedy mask with both faces alternating black and white on the left and right sides of his face. Ningyo, of course, was given a Jananice animal mask, replicated to look like porcelain, with the shape of a fox. Suture was given an adapted plaque doctor's mask with seven eyeholes arranged in a crescent around the mask, only two of them functional. Mortem was given a pink leather mask with stylized metal apparently holding the mouth and eyes of the mask open, like a torture device. Cecilia had a gas mask with backlit eyes and mouthpiece, glowing a sickly green color. Vika was given a helmet roughly spray-painted with rust and yellow paint, the words PLEASE STOP ME plastered in red across the front. Hemera was given a bright gold helmet similar to a biker helmet, black flames drawn along the sides of it. Bartholomew was given a a red metal "bandana" around the mouth and nose, his mask being the smallest. Dion's mask looked like a cage, wrapped completely around his head in a box shape and placed so his eyes were obscured by the metal. Paula was given a feminine Guy Fawkes mask with lipstick and eyeliner, the upper right portion of it appearing to have been blown off from an explosion. Finally, Jackal had a Victorian masquerade mask colored silver, black eyeshades obscuring his eyes.

"…I look like I should be in the Deviants," noted Mortem touching the metal wires on her mask.

"You don't?" asked Hemera.

"Shut up bitch! Least my mask isn't one touch away from a copyright infringement!"

"Speak foh yaself," murmured Vika, noting the exact game her mask was from.

"Well I like it," noted Suture adjusting the mask. "Just stereotypical enough to identify me, but not too much."

"This cage is freaky," grunted the Titan adjusting his metal mask.

"I love my mask!" shouted Paula hugging it to her bosom. "How did he know I loved Guy Fawkes?"

"Baravan is good like that," explained Dr. Ivanlove. "Now if everyone is satisfied…I need the four who don't live me to tail it. Hate for Eddy to pop a vein for letting non-contestants in my quarters."

"On it," stated Ningyo adjusting his animal mask. "Let's go everyone."

* * *

Davis Dahmer examined the map of the raceway, determining as many details as he could from it.

"I want you two to be positioned here and here," spoke the leader pointing to two points near the garages. "Scan the crews. I'm getting the impression Red Death is among at least one of them. Perhaps the Watchdogs brought him, which is why they were so reluctant to talk about it?"

"The Watchdogs are here to kill him," argued Catherine. "They'd never work with him."

"I know. I'm just…desperate."

"Where am I needed sir?"

"This apartment building. I need someone to keep a lookout in case we miss someone. Also, I need you two to do something."

"Anything," spoke Humbert sharpening his knife.

"Name it," grunted Francois.

"Take a session of recreation. I need you two at peak performance."

Humbert grinned, combing his hair back. "A chance to visit Diana and the girls again? Gladly."

"I think there are a few fresh girls in the morgue," murmured Francois.

The twins left, leaving Catherine and Davis alone. The leader sat down in his armchair, rubbing his temples.

"Catherine, if I may confide in you?" asked Davis.

"Always," spoke Catherine.

"I've been having…dreams. Of Red Death killing me," admitted the leader. He was shaking, and for once Catherine did not know why.

"Sir…you're shaking," murmured the female.

"Yeah…I'm feeling…fear…I haven't felt this in so long…"

He looked up at her, smiling softly. "Hey Catherine…what do you think Red Death is like…? Like…what kind of guy he is?"

Catherine backed up in shock, his legitimate glee and excitement catching her off-guard. "Well…we can't really know just from what we've seen. No one's ever met him, and the only evidence we even have for his existence is his murders, so…"

Davis nodded, practically jittering as he sat. "Yeah…I'm sorry for the questions…just…I'm beginning to think…maybe we won't find him…maybe I won't ever be satisfied…"

"Thinking like that will cause you to fail," noted Catherine. "You were the one to tell me that."

"…you're right, of course," spoke the leader. "Catherine…do you remember the day I brought you into our group?"

"Of course. You thought I would be your Red Death. That I would…bring you pain."

"Not ordinary pain. Pain so intense it makes me feel pain once again, makes me feel fear and terror. Pain that will kill me but not kill me. And while you are one of the greatest sadists I know…even that did not satisfy me."

"Why do you remind me?"

Davis looked up at the ceiling, tears beginning to fall from his old eyes. "…maybe I'm doomed to live, without feeling pain or pleasure or anything anymore. I've been everywhere, seen everything, and yet nothing has ever made me feel…"

He suddenly snapped, slamming his hand onto the coffee table with his needle piercing through it. Catherine jumped in shock, staring at his bleeding appendage. "Sir…?"

Davis burst into laughter, glaring intensely at his injury. Even as he spoke, he spoke levelly, not a decibel higher than normal. "How silly of me. I appear to have gotten depressed. That's not who I am. If I'm sad, I just stab myself or someone enough till I feel better. Red Death's presence really is affecting me. I've just grown so fearful I began thinking of imaginary things. I'm sorry Catherine."

"It's…no problem sir."

Davis looked up, a smile plastered over his face. "Catherine, I require two subjects. Gender is irrelevant, but I want healthy ones. Tell Richard to dig two graves. I want boiling soybean oil, a power drill, and four combination wrenches."

"…of course sir."

"Good. I'm going to be gone for a while. Cover for me."

* * *

**[Richard McGuinness] "So why exactly are we focusing so much on Davis?"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Author appeal. Also, Davis is the closest thing we have to a main antagonist in this arc, since Eddy is neutral if anything."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Good Lord, I'd have preferred anyone else but this guy. Still, why all the focus?"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Sam thought the last arc was weak because he never explored the main villain Cassius, so he's doing his best to give the villains depth. How well he's doing is a matter of debate of course. Only the readers can tell us that."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "True that. Readers, please drop a review or something on how you feel about this focus on the villains. Or just a review on how fucking creepy Davis is, which says a lot considering the sort of people we've had in this story."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Famile, Masher, John and Jane, Noyade, Daedalus, Mir…yep, Davis beats them all."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Now we go some good news though: Sam finally posted his novel on a real site!"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Yahoo! Self-advertisement!" *confetti***

**[Richard McGuinness] "So the story is on Wattpad. Just look up Samuel Keller and you'll find it. It's a fantasy novel, and that's all we'll say! Go check it out and drop a review!"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Tatty bye!"**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Later fuckers!"**


	31. Chapter 31: Greetings and Goodbyes

Nitro ripped his microphone off the podium, stomping his foot loudly to gain the attention over the masses below. "Hellllllloooo race fans! It's time for another exciting race in Sweeney City, sponsored by Eddy Tsar! This time around we built the tracks on top of the preexisting buildings, which is why this will be the last race our guests participate in since it's so damn expensive to do this!"

He laughed, pointing to the starting line. "All the original participants are here, save for the Watchdog members, who regrettably could not show up this time around! Other than that, every other circumstance is exactly the same! Let's get this show on the road!"

He sighed, then screamed at the top of his lungs. "GENT LEMEN, START…YOUR…ENGINES!"

* * *

Simo stood in the alleyway behind the garage, drinking a smoothie under his veil. He was standing guard in case someone tried to sabotage their station, as while the vehicle wouldn't be stopping back at the garage, someone could easily plant a bomb to kill them after the race.

Someone pumped into him, causing him to spill his drink on the person. He quickly apologized, pulling out a handkerchief. "I'm so sorry, that was…"

He stopped dead upon seeing who it was, his body so shocked it couldn't move.

Davis Dahmer stood glaring at him annoyed, a new fur shawl over his shoulders. It looked like he had skinned an entire wolf and mounted it to his upper body, even leaving the paws and teeth.

Davis tackled him into the wall, pulling out a needle and placing it over one of the metal eye sockets. "You have a lot of nerve saying you're sorry. You nearly ruined my new shawl. You deserve punishment."

"But…you…bumped…me…" spoke Simo terrified out of his mind, knowing what would happen if Davis lifted the veil.

"Tough talk coming from someone dressed like you," noted Davis. "All red…"

He pressed his face closer, absolutely fuming. "You're mocking me, aren't you?! Everyone with a brain cell in this city knows about Red Death, and yet you have the audacity to dress all in red?! Do you know where he is?! Tell me where he is!"

Jackal appeared from the doorway, leveling his pistol at Davis's head. "Let go of him. Now."

Davis backed away, all smiles now. "I was merely having a discussion with your friend."

"I noticed. Get out of here before I turn you to ashes."

Davis grinned widely, his eyes turning a dangerous color. "Hey, do either of you know where Red Death is? I'd really appreciate a hint. I'd pay well, I swear."

"No clue," snapped Jackal.

"None," replied Simo sweating in fear.

"Shame. Very well. I hope to see you gentlemen again."

Davis walked away with a skip in his step, almost happy in a way.

When he was gone, Simo looked at Jackal was panic. "He knows!"

"Not possible," stated Jackal calmly. "He would've given us a bigger hint. He just assumes we're two people who won't tolerate his bullshit and he likely has us on a mental list of people to murder. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"And if he does know?"

Jackal grinned widely, looking identical to Davis. "We kill him."

* * *

Jefferson woke up slowly, noting how his left arm was restricted in motion. He glanced at it, the bandages on it old and dirty. He sat up in his bed, looking around. The base they had set up in the apartments was small and little more than a hovel, but was secure enough for their purposes.

"Amon?" he asked aloud. "Where are you?"

He got out of bed unsteadily, his left leg just as damaged if not more so. He walked to the door, opening it slowly.

A corpse slammed onto his foot from the crack in the door, Jefferson jumping slightly. This wasn't normal. Amon would've cleaned up corpses if they had been attacked.

He examined the corpse. The person, their gender being unrecognizable at this point, was covered in cuts and gaping slashes, carved straight to the bones in some places. Several gaping holes were across the torso and limbs as well, most of them an inch wide and a massive one a foot wide in the chest.

He stopped dead, seeing a chunk of white hair on top of the corpse's head. Breathing became hard and frantic, Jefferson beginning to panic.

"No way, there's no way…" he whispered rummaging through the corpse's pockets.

He pulled out a wallet, examining the ID. Only when he read the name and saw the resemblance between the faces did he know for certain.

"…Amon…what happened?" he asked astonished.

Then the reality hit him fully of what he was seeing, Jefferson being hit with a tidal wave of emotions. He screamed at the top of his lungs, clutching his cold partner's corpse desperately. There were no words that did what he felt justice, pure emotion tearing through him.

He fired off a massive fireball from his right hand, obliterating the building in that direction to cinders. He looked up with tears pouring off his face, his face twisted in rage.

"Amon…I'll find who did this…even if it takes all of my immortal life to do so…I will find who did this."


	32. Chapter 32: Finish Line

The Heartbreaker slammed into the roof hard, several of the passengers gaining vertigo from the first jump alone.

"Why did that idiot install jumps on a race track on rooftops!?" screamed Mortem with her stomach in her throat, bile rising quickly.

"Less structures he has to build on the actual rooftops!" argued Lupus.

"Shut up emo, it was a rhetorical question!"

"Bitch, I'll rhetorical my…!"

"Quit arguing or I'll turn this thing around!" roared Hemera.

"But Mom, he's being mean to me!" snapped Mortem.

"She started it!" spat Lupus.

"I'm finishing it!" yelled Hemera.

"Car!" shouted Vika, the only one concentrating on the road.

They smashed into the back of Rob Bombly's car, the stoner glaring at them through his rear-view window.

"Watch where ya going, ya fool!" he yelled activating a defense mechanism in his car. Their windshield was covered in a thick layer of oil, obscuring their view of the incoming jump.

"Shit!" snapped Hemera leaning out the window, trying to see ahead of her as best she could. They cleared the jump barely, but clipped the edge of the roof with their back wheels and bashing the rear passenger's heads into the ceiling.

"Goddamn this sucks," murmured Lupus.

Mortem activated the car's windshield cleaner, blasting away the oil on the glass to clear their view. Hemera grunted a thank you, resuming to her normal position and trying to catch up with Rob Bombly. She passed over a Sword tile, landing on missiles.

"Karma's a bitch!" she snapped firing both of them, aimed dead on the stoner's car.

Rob Bombly, as his namesake, was blasted clean off the track, only the New-U Station saving him.

"Hot damn I love these races!" exclaimed Hemera.

"Seeing you excited is scary," murmured Mortem.

"Agreed," chimed Vika.

"Totally," added Lupus.

"Hey, no backseat bitching!" snapped the Light Siren.

Ahead of them, Racer X and the Virinia Sisters were currently locked in battle, both utilizing the weapons they had brought on board to duke it out. Racer X was firing a laser pistol while the three sisters utilized bullet weaponry. So far they were both damaging each other's cars more than their bodies, but Racer X was growing desperate from the storm of bullets he was facing.

"No Sword tiles nearby!" informed Mortem.

"Lupus?" asked Hemera.

"Can't reach them at this range, and they'll shoot on us the second we get closer," argued the guitarist.

Vika held up a hand grenade. "How about this?"

"If you can chuck it, go ahead."

The Grave Knight got out through the sunroof, taking careful aim on the targets ahead of them. She pulled the pin, chucking it at Racer X's car.

The grenade landed in his lap, the masked racer letting out a single swearword before blasting all across his cockpit. His car smashed into a roadblock, bursting into blue fire from the mysterious fuel it used.

The Virinia Sisters immediately turned their attention to the Vault Hunters, firing all their weapons on them. The bullets were reflected by the sturdy glass of their windshield, but it was only a matter of time before they managed a shot on one of their tires.

Just in time for Hemera to hit a Shield tile, landing right on the beehive gun.

"Someone up there loves me," she murmured pushing the button.

The honey-dripping beehive flew from their catapult and hit the Virinia Sisters' car head on, covering them in swarms of angry bees. They screamed and lost control of their vehicle, driving straight over the rooftop to the streets below.

"That leaves Whiskey Joe again," stated Mortem. "That redneck is damn lucky."

"Not lucky enough, hold on," spoke Hemera activating the nitro.

The vehicle flew through the next series of jumps quickly, Hemera fighting for control as it sped through the markers. Whiskey Joe had taken advantage of an early lead to place himself away from the competition, but had used all his nitro to get there. Now, he was a sitting duck for them to fight.

The redneck glanced back at them and swore, scanning the ground in front of him. He grinned, noting how there was nothing for quite some time. He grabbed something from under his seat, standing up to reveal it was a grenade launcher.

"Boom shakalaka," he said before firing a grenade right at them, smashing into the car's hood. The Heartbreaker's engine stalled, the windshield shattering into thousands of pieces.

"Goddamn it!" roared Hemera absolutely furious, bashing her fist into the steering wheel. She began trying to turn the engine over, but to no avail. "I'm not losing to some goddamn redneck!"

Vika sighed, climbing out of the car. "I'm on it."

"On what?!" demanded the Siren. "What could you possibly do?"

Mortem grinned. "Her power is the Superstar."

She pulled out her cell phone, flipping on the camera. "Get anything that can broadcast to the net on her."

"Why?" asked Lupus.

"She gets stronger the more people look at her. I want her ugly ass all over the web!"

Vika pulled out chains and rooted them into the car's tires, strapping them across her chest. She began breathing deeply, staring straight ahead in concentration.

"Got it," spoke Lupus aiming his camera right at her.

Vika began to glow gold, shuddering in energy. She grinned widely, flexing her fingers. "Man, this feels good."

She began dragging the car forward, the wrecked vehicle groaning in complain. She was slow, far too slow, to catch up to Joe however.

"We need more people!" ordered Hemera.

Mortem sighed, flicking open a black and gold app. "Welp, time to link my private account."

Vika's body exploded with energy, the Grave Knight laughing loudly in wonder. She began running with the car, the axles spitting sparks against the roof.

"Nearing the edge!" noted Mortem.

Lupus nodded, getting out of the car and climbing onto the roof. He pulled out his guitar, strumming a few loud notes.

All cameras in the race turned to them, Vika sending cracks through the roof from the sheer power emitting from her. She was roaring like an animal now, a huge grin plastered on her face as she stormed ahead.

"We're not going to make the jump!" noted Hemera.

"Bull," snapped Lupus.

They ascended the ramp, the guitarist playing a massive riff. The car leaped an extra few meters in the air, clearing the gap and landing on the ramp back to the ground. Vika was not damaged at all, now gaining speed rivaling Hemera's. Millions of people were watching her, and the Superstar would not disappoint.

"Home stretch, and Whisky Joe's almost cleared the finish line!" shouted Mortem.

"Oh no he hasn't!" roared Vika. She dug her heels in and gripped the chains, flying forward with a new burst of speed. The car was practically levitating at this point, the others barely hanging on.

Whiskey Joe glanced over his shoulder only to gaze in awe as Vika stormed past him, dragging the Heartbreaker behind her.

"And it's the Heartbreaker by a landslide!" roared Nitro flying off his seat, whooping in joy loudly. The crowd exploded with applause, beer and barbeque filling the air.

"Slow down dumbass, we passed the line!" ordered Mortem.

Vika slammed her heels into the asphalt, the other three Vault Hunters smashing into the closest object in front of them. For Lupus, that object was the asphalt twenty feet in front of the car as he was on the roof.

"Holy crap that was a bad trip," he noted rubbing his sore face, several portions of it scraped off.

"You got a little…face there," spoke Mortem pointing before puking her guts out on the street.

Vika was still laughing hysterically, staring at her hands as they vibrated from power. "Today, I am a god!"

Hemera smacked her several times to get her back into focus, shaking her shoulders. "Stay with me pal, you're having a really bad trip."

"You are dead wrong," snapped Vika. "If this is a trip, it's the best I ever had!"

Mortem cut off her cell phone, Vika's aura halving quickly. She lurched, collapsing onto the pavement. "God…is…weak…"

"Gods must master themselves before the universe," noted Lupus.

"Oh go eat some more pavement, Aristotle," snapped Mortem.

Nitro stormed onto the victory circle, now legitimately excited and full of joy. He thrust the microphone in Vika's face. "Miss Grieve, could you please explain the physics of such a BADASS MOVE like what you just pulled QUESTION MARK!"

"Well you see Nitro, I…"

"Hey everybody, I'm open!" interjected Mortem. "My main account is smexyloli69 and my private account is supersmexyloli69, so pics or I won't invite you."

Vika snarled and threw her to the side, tightening her fists. "You spoiled piece of…"

"THERE ARE CHILDREN!" roared Nitro. "KEEP IT PG!"

"You spoiled piece of…turd!"

"FCC approved!" stated Nitro approvingly.

Vika and Mortem began to fistfight, both so exhausted it was more akin to trying to two people trying to fit into the same pair of jeans than a proper fight.

Nitro went over to Hemera, the only one who wasn't delirious or infuriated. "Miss Hemera, how does it feel to a victor standing in the named circle!?"

Hemera smirked, grabbing the bottle of champagne with him and popping the cork. She poured it down her throat, emptying half of it before stopping and wiping her mouth.

"It's awesome," she said laughing, her breath tinged with bubbly alcohol.

* * *

The Professional leader smirked, turning off the television set. "Yes, it is awesome, isn't it?"

"Yeah, that kinda was," noted a large woman seated in a massive throne-like chair, her bulging biceps and chest muscles exposed with her tank top. She was massive compared to everyone else in the room, standing over six feet and composed of pure muscle. Still, she was an Amazonian beauty, beauty only woman who could crush skulls with their bare hands could achieve.

**Aolani: Open the Gates**

"I've seen better," murmured one man, a dark-skinned individual who was bare from the waist up. On his back were two axes, the rest of his body marred with countless scars. His hair reached mid-back and possessed a simple braid, several bone beads present in the design. His demeanor was calm and collected, but his eyes held unfathomable passion.

**Hakon: Hear My Drums of War**

"Don't be such a putdown Hakon," snapped a large man on the opposite side of the table, easily the fattest person there. His belly stretched far from his shirt and waistline, but his arms and legs clearly showed pounds of muscle underneath. He was chugging out of a huge barrel he had dragged into the room, having apparently gotten at least halfway through it from what it seemed.

**Walcott: Drinking While Infuriated**

"Gentlemen, relax," spoke the leader. "We're all businessmen here."

"Some of us," noted the Hakon the dark-skinned man.

"You fucking wot mate?!" roared the drunkard, standing up. Hakon did the same, drawing his axes.

The woman stormed over, slamming a hand onto both of their chests to keep them from rising further.

"Hakon, Walcott, calm down," she ordered sternly.

Hakon sighed, sitting down. Walcott did the same, glaring at his opposite as he chugged another mouthful.

"Thank you Aolani," stated the leader. "Now, our organization is up next for this competition. Our objective is simple: killing everyone inside the Fag house."

"Good riddance, those idiots annoy me," murmured Walcott. "What's the plan?"

"You don't plan an all-out assault on a building with over three hundred occupants," snapped Hakon. "You can try, but you tend to lose when your group is anything less than three times the size."

"We won't kill them all," elaborated the leader.

Everyone glanced up at that, confusion flying across their faces.

"Uh…I miss something?" asked Walcott.

"Have to agree with lard-ass," muttered Hakon.

"What's the angle, Franco?" inquired Aolani.

"A simple angle my dear," stated Franco. "We accepted a contract concerning this week. We have one new objective."

He pulled up a display on the large wall behind him, filling with images. There were three hundred portraits on the wall, each portrait a different individual.

"We need to find Red Death," spoke Franco grinning.

"Oh God, we accepted that contract?" asked Walcott disgusted.

"You got a problem with that?" inquired Hakon.

"Damn right I do! Those fucking pervs can eat my…!"

"Language, Walcott," spoke a soothing voice from the corner of the room. Davis emerged, carrying a briefcase with him. He was smiling with his usual demeanor, but his glare at Walcott could've cut through bone.

Walcott gulped, his mouth suddenly going dry. Everyone else at the table felt it too, despite being professional killers. Something was…off about Davis. Unlike them, he seemed more interested in the killer part instead of the professional part.

"Davis Dahmer is generously offering three times the usual cost for one of our contracts for this job," explained Franco, all smiles. "I think we can set aside our little differences to do so, correct?"

"Three times?" asked Walcott amazed. "I'd kill my own sister for that."

"A good thing none of us are your family then," stated Davis, his smile increasing by a miniscule amount as if laughing. He sat down at the table, setting the briefcase down.

"Is that…?" asked Aolani curiously.

"No, it is not your money," spoke Davis. "I believe in results, which is why I came to you. This is far more mundane, but infinitely more important."

He popped it open, revealing a small plastic container. He set the container on the table, everyone peering closer. It was a single blonde hair in a plastic case, immaculately preserved.

"Is that Red Death's?" inquired Hakon amazed.

"There wasn't any evidence though…" murmured Walcott.

"Oh there was evidence, if anyone cared to look," argued Davis. "No murder is perfect, and Red Death was notably sloppy. Just firing off shots indiscriminately, turning bodies asunder…"

He shivered, his eyes rolling back into his head. "Apologies, but thinking about it is ecstasy."

"We can analyze this hair and get some DNA off of it," spoke Franco. "We'll find your man Davis."

"I certainly hope so," stated Davis. "I grow impatient from longing."


	33. Chapter 33: Frailty

Lilith smirked as she watched the footage, a bucket of popcorn placed precariously on her outstretched legs resting on her desk. Her chair was leaning back as far as it could go, her relaxed pose almost comically cartoonish.

"This is what I call good television," she stated slurping a soda sonorously.

**[Richard McGuinness] "Try saying that three times fast."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Not falling for that one again."**

"Agreed," stated Edward seated beside her, in an equally ridiculous pose. He was watching the television upside down, his head hanging off near the floor with his feet high at the top of the chair. He didn't seem bothered by this in the slightest, even kicking his feet lightly.

"Pass the corn Lillipup!" shouted Not-So-Tiny Tina continuing the trend of ridiculous seat arrangements. She had apparently decided to completely reverse the roles of chair and sitter, her chair positioned erratically on top of her head as she sat on the floor.

"Sure, here you go."

"When could Vika do that?" asked Edward pointing at the screen.

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Since Sam forgot what her powers were."**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Shut up! No one is supposed to know that!"**

Wolfenstein knocked on the doorway, his frame occupying the entire entryway. "Got a visitor."

"I'm busy," snapped Lilith.

"You're going to want to meet him."

"Tell him to bring some popcorn then!" snarled the Siren. "Let him in!"

Wolfenstein stepped to the side, everyone in the room instantly reacting to the person behind him.

"Oh shit," muttered Tina with wide eyes.

"Whoa," murmured Lilith.

Edward said nothing, charging out of his position and drawing his firearm from his SDU. He aimed it at the man, barely a foot away from him now.

Jefferson glared back at him, his fingers ready to snap at Edward's face. He was stoic and not nervous in the slightest, retaining his blank expression.

"I've come here under a neutral flag," stated Jefferson calmly.

"Well I sure as hell didn't asswipe," roared Edward. "You think you people are just allowed to wave white flags around, after what you did to us the last time you did?"

"That was not me who did the Massacre at White Pine," argued Jefferson. "My partner Amon did, and now he lies dead."

Edward smirked. "Good riddance. Hated that old man."

"Dead?" repeated Lilith astonished. "By who?"

"None of your forces," stated Jefferson. "Those injuries correspond to no one, Crimson Raider or Syndicate. Something else killed my partner."

"So what? You proposing some sort of collaboration shit?" asked Edward. "Let me guess, we help you, we get absolved of our crimes, right?"

"No," spoke Jefferson. "I offer you nothing."

Edward gripped his gun even tighter. "And yet…you want our help?"

"…I have a dead man's switch," explained Jefferson. "It's attached to a life sign monitor as well as a mental trigger on my personal satellite. If I die or release a certain string of brainwaves, that satellite releases a small tidbit of information you do not want released."

"Like what?" asked Edward daringly.

"The identity of Red Death."

Edward paled significantly, then shook his head. "No way. You couldn't have figured that out."

"I did. If you let me, I could easily explain how I did it."

"Edward, it's too risky," stated Lilith. "Besides, he could easily have multiple switches attached to God knows what elsewhere. We should take his offer."

Edward's hand began shaking, then he sighed and lowered his gun. "Fine. But if you're shitting me, I will personally find something to kill your immortal ass."

"Understood," spoke Jefferson lowering his hand. "Now, shall we discuss this?"

Lilith sighed, placing her feet off the desk. "Let me see what you got."

Jefferson pulled out a folder from his jacket, placing it on the table. Lilith thumbed through it, wincing at the pictures of Amon's corpse.

"Goddamn, he looks like they threw him in a blender," murmured the Siren. "Sorry."

"I have grieved for my partner long enough," stated Jefferson. "I have filled my heart now with hate."

"Keep talking like that and I might just think you're human," spoke Edward.

"Well he's right, I've never seen anything like this," murmured Lilith. "The cuts themselves are simple, but there are just so many of such varying lengths and widths that it looks like it was multiple people. Wait…"

She cringed as she asked, "Uh…what happened to his…you know?"

"His genitals?" inquired Jefferson blankly. "It would appear someone crushed them and ingested his testicles through a laceration."

"Someone…crushed his nuts and drank them like a milkshake?" asked Tina horrified.

"Jesus Christ," muttered Edward. "You sure it wasn't one of your people?"

Jefferson glared at him, but shook his head. "I am sure. This does not match up with any profiles from the Crimson Raiders or Syndicate. I do suspect one group however."

Jefferson narrowed his eyes. "Have you ever heard of the Deviants?"

**[Richard McGuinness] "…well duh! That's the stupidest reveal I've ever heard! Of course the fucking Deviants did that! They drank this dude's testes like oysters!"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's a fetish somewhere. Of course, which one did it?"**

**[Richard McGuinness] "Okay, now that's at least kinda interesting."**

* * *

Dion bellowed his chest out as their group walked back to the Octane barracks, his face red with intoxication. "That's right bitches! I made out like a fucking bandit!"

"Keep yelling, someone's gonna take your hard-earned cash," argued Paula smacking him.

"Hey, I bet my money fair and square! Not my fault I had in depth knowledge of the winners!"

An axe slammed into the space in front of Dion, the Titan stopping dead. He glanced to the direction he saw the axe come from, glaring into the darkness.

A dark-skinned man emerged, carrying a second axe with him. He was covered in tribal tattoos, and had the same cold gaze of Wolfenstein. "You said you knew the winners?"

"What if I did, Black Knight?" asked Dion aggressively.

"Let it drop Dion," encouraged Bartholomew.

Hakon flexed his fingers, his axe flying back to his grip. He took a deep breath, his tribal tattoos vibrating and shifting across his skin.

Then they exploded with a massive release of energy, shattering the windows around them and nearly knocking some of the lighter members off their feet.

Hakon flew towards Dion, slamming an axe into his chest. The Titan flew into a building, releasing a sonic boom loud enough to crack the concrete.

Ningyo flew his strings out to Hakon, only for a cask of ale to intercept his attack. The cask exploded, covering Ningyo in a vile mixture and burning his eyes.

Walcott stormed over to the ninja and head-butted him, sending him reeling to the ground dazed.

Bartholomew drew his gun, but a fist slammed into his chest and stopped him dead. Several fists joined them, each one as strong as sledgehammers. He caught a glimpse of his attacker, a woman nearly as large as him and covered in a dark brown aura around her body. She had tufts of fur all across her face and arms, similar to a gorilla.

She smashed into his chin, Bartholomew flying off his feet and smacking into the pavement.

Paula drew her launcher, firing at the woman closest to her. Aolani blocked with her forearms, her aura changing to a bright green color.

"Turtle stance," she whispered grinning, her skin turning scaly.

Walcott chuckled, scratching his belly. "If this is the best they got, we should just capture them now."

Then a nearby building exploded, everyone looking over in shock.

Dion stood in the smoking remains of the building, screaming loudly. His skin was turning to ashes as it flew off his body, his clothes boiling to a pool below him. His eyes were pits of pure white energy, his mouth a gaping maw.

He fired a shot from his right hand, Hakon taking the hit to the chest. He absorbed the shot, snarling in rage from being knocked back several feet.

"Is that all you got!?" roared Hakon.

Dion then released a massive storm of projectiles from his back and chest, raining down on the berserker. Hakon took several before he began flying down the street, the shots following him and burrowing through his body before turning back and hitting again.

Hakon rooted himself to the ground with his axes, his entire body burning and bleeding. He roared right back at Dion, his tattoos expanding to cover his skin in a solid black color. He threw an axe right at him, the axe retaining its altitude as it flew.

The axe chopped clean through Dion's leg, sending the Titan collapsing to the ground. Hakon stormed after him, calling his axe back as he charged him.

Walcott went to help him, only for several strings to flash in his vision and his body getting held tight.

"Never turn you back upon me," snapped Ningyo, having flushed his eyes of the foul ale.

He began shredding through Walcott's skin, the drunkard groaning in pain. He grabbed the strings, fighting to keep them from cutting straight through to the bone.

Aolani stepped forward, but Bartholomew charged in and stopped her. They slammed their fists together, both staring into each other's faces.

"You know, you're a pretty woman, even with the druid crap," noted the pirate. "Say after this we get a drink?"

"I don't date targets, but I'm flattered," stated Aolani. She snarled, her scales leaving her and her skin bursting into electrical sparks. "Thunderbird stance."

She began to fry Bartholomew's electrical parts, the cyborg desperately trying to keep control of his own body. She was chuckling, her laughter crackling with electricity.

Paula pulled the trigger on her launcher, having charged it up to maximum power as they had struggled. Aolani flew down the street, creating a crater in the asphalt.

"Thanks," spoke Bartholomew shaking himself off.

"No problem, and you could get a lot prettier girls than that," stated Paula reloading.

"Hey, when you're as big as I am, you take what you can get."

"Honestly," muttered Paula rolling her eyes.

Hakon slammed into Dion, the two wrestling in the wreckage of the building. Hakon punched Dion in the face, the entire street shaking with the force. He swung an axe down, the Titan dodging at the last second to avoid an improvised lobotomy.

Dion grunted and jammed two fingers into Hakon's mouth, shattering several teeth in the process. He cocked back his thumb, creating a 'handgun' shape.

"Boom," he said before compressing his thumb, 'firing' a shot.

A beam emitted straight through Hakon's head, the berserker collapsing beside him.

"Goddamn it man!" snapped Walcott, still stuck in Ningyo's strings. He vomited upon his own chest, the acid in it melting through the metal. He ran over to him, grabbing Hakon and hoisting him on his shoulder. "Aolani, we gotta go!"

"Right!" stated the woman picking herself up. They ran down the alley they had come from, Dion storming over to chase them.

"Dion!" shouted Paula. "Leave them be!"

He glared back at her, his eyes wild with anger, but paused as he saw the determination in her eyes. He calmed down, his body's flesh growing back while he shivered from the feeling of being naked.

"Anyone got any clothes?" he asked slightly embarrassed.

"Huh, the drapes do match the carpet," noted Paula.

He blushed crimson, swearing at the top of his lungs. "Give me some fucking clothes, woman!"

Bartholomew ripped off his red cape and threw it over the small man, easily covering him like a robe. "Here you go."

"Thanks," stated the Titan. He yawned, now exhausted. "God, can we go home now?"

"Yeah, let's go," spoke Ningyo.

Paula caught up with the ninja, whispering low. "Who were those guys?"

"Professionals," stated the ninja. "They attacked with little warning and left just the same. No other group acts like that."

"Why did they attack us?"

"That I do not know."

* * *

"Nice work you goddamn dumbass!" shouted Walcott, slapping Hakon across the back of the head.

The berserker snarled, his flesh having grown back several moments ago and still being tender. "Don't touch me."

"You nearly got yourself killed back there! You endangered the mission!"

"I couldn't help it," spoke Hakon calmly. "When I see a foe, my body doesn't stop still it or I can't get up."

"Thankfully, our mission was a success," argued Aolani. "Right sir?"

Franco smirked, holding four small containers. Each container was full of a tuft of hair, all of them torn out from their respective hosts. "Of course. Now we just need to test these and find out if any of them are Red Death."

* * *

"What's wrong?" asked Doctor Ivanlove storming down the hall, dressed in modest blues and yellows.

"She's been in there for at least twenty minutes, sir," spoke the assistant outside the shower room.

"She's a damn lady, of course she takes longer," argued the doctor.

"She's not answering me. I can't even hear her."

Doctor Ivanlove shoved the man aside, knocking loudly on the door. "Mary Jane! Open up!"

He heard nothing but the running water, noting how steam was beginning to leak around the edges of the door. He grunted, taking a few steps back.

Doctor Ivanlove kicked down the door, noting the steel bar that had kept the door locked in place. He walked over to the only shower stall being used, peering inside.

Mary Jane was seated against the floor, completely naked. The water pumping out was steaming hot, her entire skin red from the burns. She was viciously scrubbing her skin with a sponge, several parts of it scrubbed raw. She was sobbing as she did so, both furious and miserable.

She looked up at Doctor Ivanlove desperately. "It won't wash off! No matter how many times I scrubbed it, it won't wash off!"

Doctor Ivanlove knelt down, knowing that approaching or touching her at the moment would only make her worse. "Mary Jane, what happened that day…was not your fault. You are not to blame"

"I just…I just want to forget it and make it go away…" she whispered, "but I can't. It won't wash off!"

She threw the sponge against the wall, splattering Doctor Ivanlove with soap and water. He didn't even flinch, gazing at her sadly. After a long moment, he spoke.

"There are no words I can say that will make you forget, Mary Jane," stated Doctor Ivanlove calmly. "However, know that I will vigilantly stand by your side to get you through this. No matter how you feel, no matter what you say, I will be but a moment away to help you and listen to you. You don't have to be alone in this."

He grabbed the towel she had brought, offering it to her. Mary Jane took it, wrapping it tightly around her burned body and standing. He turned off the water, gently guiding her back to her room.

"If she ever asks for me, get me," ordered Doctor Ivanlove. "No matter the time or where I am. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," spoke the assistant.


	34. Chapter 34: The Geeks

"I am going to knock the black out of you!" roared Alan slamming the buttons on his controller forcibly. As everyone knows, pushing the buttons harder makes you play better, so his strategy had legitimate reasons behind it.

"Bring it, cracker!" shouted Baldemar, imitating his strategy as well. His fingers were stained with cheese puffs and his lips were fresh with Mountain Dew.

"You all foolishly assume I am unskilled in video games simply due to my presence of breasts!" spoke Taika.

Wolfenstein said nothing, laying against the cushions calmly without even elevated breathing.

The match ended, everyone swearing up and down in frustration. Obviously the result had been unexpected to say the least.

Wolfenstein stood up, releasing the controller with a loud plop before walking off. "Get wrecked noobs."

"Fucking furry-ass piece of shit!" shouted Alan.

"How the hell does he win every time?" asked Baldemar annoyed.

"The fact he called me a noob annoys me more than the loss," grunted Taika.

"Can I play?" asked Aurai cutely, peeking up from a massive bowl of popcorn in her lap.

"Don't you hate shooters?" inquired Alan.

"Well…you guys like them, so…"

Taika blushed, letting out a high-pitched squeal. "Goddamn it you're the cutest thing in this whole place!"

"I am frankly offended by that," stated Saprus chuckling.

"Except for you of course!"

"Aha!" roared Alan triumphantly. He held up a tape recorder, replaying the last five words spoken. "You motherfuckers are dating! I knew it! Gaige owes me twenty bucks!"

"We're not dating," spoke Saprus.

Everyone looked at them curiously, eyebrows raised and heads tilted.

"What?" asked Baldemar confused.

"We're just in it for the sex," explained Taika grinning.

"And trust me, it is passionate," bragged Saprus.

"…damn it are you two lying or not?!" demanded Alan.

"I give up," murmured Baldemar popping back a beer. "Let's do another match."

Suddenly the power shut off in their room, all of them groaning in annoyance.

"Oh man I hope that didn't include the oxygen tanks," spoke Alan.

"How can we tell?" asked Aurai.

"When it gets really hard to breathe and we asphyxiate."

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Hey, like that time I went the aquarium."**

**[Richard McGuiness] "…what sort of fucked up aquariums did you go to when you were a kid?"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "You don't want to know."**

The power returned, but came with a wave of new people inside the room with them.

"Who the hell are you?!" shouted Alan flipping out, nearly falling out of his chair.

The leader of the group smiled, stepping forward while adjusting his glasses. He was dressed in a white dress shirt and khakis, several pens stashed into his pocket. "Good evening, ignoramuses. We are a prestigious gang located within Sweeney City and have successfully hacked into your teleportation devices to render ourselves into your vessel."

"…are you all seeing this, or was my beer laced?" asked Baldemar.

"What sort of gang are you queers?" inquired Alan. "The Nerds?"

"Heathen!" roared one of the group, dressed in flamboyant rainbow colors with ponies all over it. "We are Geeks!"

"Patience, Sparkle Fluff," spoke the leader gently. "It was an honest, albeit stupid mistake."

"Wanna run that by me again?" asked Alan grabbing one of his bayonets.

"We're the Geeks. This is Sparkle Fluff, you can guess his trade. Manuke is our local otaku. Tech Boy is our master of all video games. I am Black Knight, lord of all tabletop games. We are here to take over your ship."

"Sir, you forgot one of us," whispered Tech Boy, the only one covered in wires and gadgets.

"Oh, thousand pardons! Our newest member is DJ, the…where's DJ?"

"Here," snapped Wolfenstein hauling a body into the room. He threw the body to the ground, revealing he had nearly torn the person in half. The body's Nirvana cap and shirt were nearly indiscernible from the gore, the other Geeks recoiling.

"He seemed alright until he started spewing that 'I hate my own generation' stuff," explained Wolfenstein. "I like a good music savant, but new media isn't always bad."

"I know right!" spoke Sparkle Fluff. "Can we get this guy to join?"

"No thanks," stated Wolfenstein.

"Oh, then we're going to kill you."

"…is the body not a key on what will happen?"

Tech Boy revealed a remote from his pocket, pressing the Pause button on Wolfenstein. He remained completely motionless like that, unable to move.

"Whoa," muttered Baldemar amazed. "That's awesome."

"Thanks," spoke Tech Boy.

Manuke drew a katana from his belt, screaming loudly as he charged. "Hentai! Waifu!"

Alan blocked him, grunting in surprise at the sheer force behind his swing. "Damn, not bad for a punk."

Black Knight revealed a large mace, swinging it at Saprus. The old man dodged the swing and kicked him in the chest, rupturing one of his pens and splattering them both with ink.

"You should've stayed in your mom's basement," noted the old man.

"That is a vicious, accurate stereotype!" argued Black Knight.

Sparkle Fluff ran in, wielding a large rainbow colored sword. He paused at reaching Aurai, blushing.

"…uh…can you step aside?" he asked politely.

"Why?"

"I…can't hit girls…"

"Oh, okay!"

"Thanks."

Sparkle Fluff swung at Baldemar, nearly lopping his head off in one blow. He grabbed his bag of cheese puffs and threw it at his face, splattering them with powdered cheese.

Tech Boy walked over to Taika malevolently, holding what appeared to be a Taser of some sort. She pulled out her kukri, glaring him down. "Bring it remote boy."

He jabbed at her, the huntress nimbly dodging the strike and slashing him across the chest. His armor absorbed the blow, the geek going in for another strike.

This one connected, Taika screaming in pain as the Taser hit her exposed midsection. She bucked and collapsed, tearing her shirt in the electric end of the prod.

Tech Boy stopped dead, averting his eyes and hissing. She paused, looking down to notice her exposed breasts. "What's the matter?"

"What…are those?!" asked Tech Boy horrified. "They're…incomprehensible!"

She grinned. "I get it. You all haven't seen a real woman's body in person, right?"

She stood up, Tech Boy recoiling even more. She walked towards him, the boy clutching at his eyes. They began to burn, the geek screaming in pain. His entire face then caught on fire, the flames flowing down to his body. In a matter of seconds he was a pile of ashes on the floor.

"Tech Boy!" screamed Manuke horrified. He glared at her, brandishing his katana. "I am immune to your womanly ways, foul temptress! I have seen enough animated bodies to the point that the natural body disgusts me!"

"That's not something to be proud of," argued Alan.

"Silence! I shall slay you first priest, and in the name of the moon, I will…!"

Wolfenstein grabbed Manuke in his massive jaws, his entire upper body morphed into teeth and blood. He ripped him apart, limbs and blood flying across the room.

"Tastes like ramen," he complained spitting out what looked like a skull.

Sparkle Fluff charged in, Wolfenstein grabbed the sword mid-strike and glaring down at him.

"You know, I'm a big fan of that too," spoke the Captain pointing to his T-shirt.

Sparkle Fluff smiled, seeing a chance. "Really? Oh that's…"

Wolfenstein bit his head off, swallowing him into the maw that was his body.

"You insult my franchise with your obsession," snarled the Captain.

Black Knight looked around, now outnumbered and outgunned. He let go of his mace, chuckling. "Man…you guys…are really strong…how about an apology, free of charge?"

The Vault Hunters looked at each other.

"Not a chance," snapped Alan. "Taika, give him a dose."

The huntress opened her shirt, Black Knight roaring in pain as he was consumed in flames. He desperately tried to run away, but Wolfenstein held him down and made him look at the death approaching him. He was turned to dust, not a speck left save a single pen.

"And that's for ruining my Sunday," spat Alan.

**[Richard McGuiness] "Wait…was that filler?"**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "Unashamedly and blatantly."**

**[Richard McGuiness] "Huh…not bad, 5/7."**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale] "That's not a scale of measurement for ratings!"**


	35. Chapter 35: The Professionals Part 1

"Remind me again why we're working with Watchdogs?" asked Suture cautiously, wearing his odd bird mask.

Simo smiled good-naturedly behind his red mask. "Well…turns out Edward was able to strike up an alliance for the time being. It's kinda nice actually."

"Do not expect me to return your sentiment," snapped Jefferson, marching down the street with absolute purpose. Unlike them, he wore no mask, nor did he want one. "I am here solely to avenge my fallen comrade. After this is done, I will resume my duties and terminate your filthy rebels."

Mortem grabbed him by the leg, rubbing her cheek on it affectionately through the mask. "Oh, but please return my calls, tall handsome stranger! God, you remind me so much of a man I once loved, but less furry and younger!"

"You weren't even dating Wolfenstein," argued Lupus behind his comedy/tragedy mask. "It barely was a one night stand, considering he was sleeping."

"Oh shut up turd-face! This hunk of flaming meat right here doesn't need to know that!"

Jefferson shoved her off harshly, glaring with such intensity she shivered in fear. "Touch me, and you'll go home in an urn."

Mortem pouted. "Man, this guy's an ass."

"He does work for the government," muttered Jackal.

Jefferson scowled at him for a moment, then turned and kept walking.

"So your plan involves marching up to this Franco's house and asking about Amon?" inquired Suture curiously.

"No, I demand to know about Amon," argued Jefferson.

"And if he refuses?"

"I kill every one of his men and then torture the information out of him."

"Damn, you Watchdogs are harsh," murmured Mortem legitimately surprised.

"It's our job."

"No one ever asked you to do it," snapped Jackal harshly.

"You speak so highly of yourself, considering your history, Cash," stated Jefferson coldly. "You worked for a man that depopulated ten planets before running death games on them so he could fund his planet's economy. You do not stand so high above myself in terms of morality."

Jackal recoiled like he had been slapped in the face, but offered no counterargument. In truth, he could not think of one.

"Halt!" shouted a man standing as a sentry in the street, surrounded by several of his cronies. They were all dressed in business suits, standard attire for the Professionals. "Turn around and walk away before we shoot. You got until five."

"I'm a Watchdog of the Universal Government," argued Jefferson calmly. "I must speak to your boss Franco. If you interfere, I will kill you."

"Sure pal, anyone can say that. Now move along…"

Jefferson snapped his fingers, the man instantly bursting into flames. He screamed and collapsed onto the street, his skin turning to ashes rapidly. He collapsed into a pile of dust, nothing left of him.

"I warned you," murmured Jefferson.

The rest of the guards began raising their weapons, but the others quickly dispatched them before any of them got a shot off. Jefferson led them towards the building the goons were guarding, approaching the door.

Jefferson knocked on the door, another suited individual answering.

"Who the hell are you?" asked the man confused. "How'd you get through the guards?"

Jefferson simply lifted a burning helmet from one of the guards, before immolating it in his grip. "I need to speak to Franco. I'm a Watchdog."

The man gulped, knowing that he didn't want to die from incineration today or any other day. He quietly let them through, running out the door as soon as they were inside.

Franco paused, looking up from his dining room table. He was midway through a bowl of spaghetti, a few noodles dripping from his lips.

"Uh…hello?" he said swallowing the bunch, washing it down with some red wine.

"I need to know who murdered Watchdog Amon," stated Jefferson simply.

"Uh…okay, that's a pretty straightforward question. Hold on a second."

Franco sipped more of his red wine, than spat it dramatically at Jefferson. The Watchdog wiped his face blankly, more annoyed than angry.

"What the hell are you doing in my home at this hour, unannounced?!" demanded Franco enraged. "I'm trying to have a nice dinner with my subordinates, made by my sweet mother-in-law, bless her heart, and you come in here like you own the place! So either make with the explanations or get the hell out!"

"Mr. Franco, let me explain," said Simo calmly. "We're here to ask about a murder of a certain Watchdog agent named Amon. We have killed all your guards until this point and my companion here is willing to turn this entire city block into ashes if you don't go along with this."

Just to accent that sentence, Jefferson lit a fire in his hands, twirling the flames with his fingers.

Franco sighed, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Well, normally I'd just send my subordinates here to kill you, but…"

He smiled, glancing at the seat next to him, currently occupied by a small old woman. "…my mother-in-law just stopped for a surprise visit, and I can't allow her to see such violence."

He glanced back at them, face growing blank. "Let's go outside."

They walked outside, Franco and his goons following him. Franco had not left his bottle of red wine, though he clearly was annoyed at leaving his dinner.

"Let's make this snappy," stated Franco. "I don't know who killed Amon."

"So you know what happened?" asked Jefferson.

"You idiot. It was a killing of a government agent. The whole damn city heard about it. Every merc with a mouth is shouting off he did it, but I know none of them did."

"How?"

"Easy. Amon was tough, tougher than nails even. I daresay he was as strong as I was. You'd need someone who had brains to kill him. They either did it without him seeing, or they outwitted him."

"The injuries seemed rather extensive for a sneak attack," argued Jefferson.

"Post-mortem disfigurement," countered Franco calmly. "Lots of sick bastards do that."

"Like the Deviants?"

"…you suspect them too?"

Jefferson took a threatening step forward. "Which one?"

"I don't know. Davis didn't, I know. He was at my abode all day when I got word of Amon's death. Could've been one of his flunkies though. Talk to them."

Jefferson nodded. "Thank you for the information."

Simo paused, something tugging at his mind. "Wait…why was Davis at your house?"

Franco smiled, and this time it was only teeth. "Well, we have a business arrangement. I bring him Red Death, and he gives me his key to the Vault. I really want my gang to have special treatment on Eddy Tsar's little list of supply drops. And you all are on my list of possible suspects…"

He sipped his wine. "So please offer up some DNA peacefully and no one gets hurt."

They all backed up in fear, knowing far too well what would happen if they did. Franco grinned, once again showing his shark-like smile. "Oh, so that means…one of you is Red Death. Oh boy, Davis is going to have a field day. That narrows it down to about six people."

"You won't be alive to tell him," snapped Jefferson.

"You're…?" began Jackal surprised.

"I still need you all alive," argued the Watchdog. "Davis will almost certainly make that impossible. So it's rather simple really."

"Yeah, it is," spoke Franco. He took the final sip of his wine, sighing. "Well, might as well get this over with."

He dropped the wine glass, fading away instantly.

Then he was right back to grabbing it, the glass barely dropping an inch. In his other hand he held six pieces of hair, each one placed in a small plastic container.

"Good day," he said smiling, beginning to walk away.

"How…?" began Jackal astonished.

"He's faster than Nitro…" murmured Suture amazed.

Jefferson was the first to react. He snapped his fingers, turning Franco's hand into cinders along with the hairs. The mob boss calmly threw off his burning glove, his hand mildly burned.

"Damn, looks like we need to do this again," he stated annoyed.

Jefferson stormed him, grasping him by the lapels and not letting go. Franco's eyes widened, and he did not move.

"So you can't bring anyone with you…" spoke the Watchdog confidently.

Hakon drew his axe and swung it at Jefferson, only for a bloody blade to intercept the hit.

Suture kicked Hakon in the chest, twirling his blood in a spiral around him and slashing him. Then he fired a massive ball of blood into Hakon's center, sending the man flying down the street.

Jackal brandished his guns and fired at Aolani, the massive woman dodging the shots and getting further from her boss.

Walcott burped before spewing his stomach's contents onto the street, galloons of regurgitated alcohol flooding the asphalt. Everyone was pushed back from save Franco, who was wise to jump above the tide.

"It's a paralysis technique!" explained Hemera, charging up her light powers. "There's no traction marks to be super speed, and he didn't stop time since his glass kept falling! He's paralyzing us so we can't react to him!"

Franco didn't say anything, but gave an annoyed look at her, confirming her statement. He flexed his fingers, Vika instinctively throwing her sword at him. He dodged it, giving Hemera enough time to charge him.

"He needs to concentrate to do it!" yelled Jefferson. "That's why my grappling him worked!"

"Goddamn it…" murmured Franco annoyed, his face singed with the punch from Hemera. Hemera charged him again, this time prompting him to attack back. He stabbed her three times in the chest with his fingers, the Siren screaming in pain and collapsing into a heap.

"What the hell did you do?!" roared Hemera clutching at her legs. "Oh God, I can't move them!"

"I don't need to concentrate if I touch you," he explained calmly, seeing no point in keeping secrets now that they understood his technique. He took off his coat, revealing his muscular arms and shoulders. "My fellows! We're capturing these people and bringing them right to Davis! Let's see what that pervert will give us for handing him Red Death!"


	36. Chapter 36: Announcement!

**[Richard McGuinness]: Whoa, this is weird. No content with our message.**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale]: Yeah, what gives Sam?**

**[Samuel Keller]: Well, I'm here to deliver a very important message to my fans, and didn't have time to finish the proper Chapter 36 before delivering this message, as i think it warrants immediate reactions from the fans.**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale]: ****What is it?**

**[Samuel Keller]: ****Well as I'm sure my fans have noticed, my update times have stretched longer and longer, even during the summer months. Truth is, I'm beginning to peter out. Not with writing, I love writing with a passion. This story has been going on for nearly two years now, and I think I've run my length of it. Now before you all start adjusting your tin foil hats, that is not the death of either this story or me. **

**[Richard McGuinness]: ****Sure sounds like it.**

**[Samuel Keller]: ****Listen please. I plan fully on finishing this story properly and wrapping it up satisfactorily. I won't be able to make my plans for 1 main story and 4 DLC like planned, but I'm amazed I've gone this long to be honest. Looking back, I see that while my writing style has improved over this story, the "passion" of this story has gone down. I just don't find as much enjoyment as I used to in it. My fellow writers will understand what I mean, and I hope the non-writers in the audience do too. I just can't write another DLC again. **

**[Richard McGuinness]: ****Well...it's been a great ride man. **

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale]: ****Yeah, best time of my life. **

**[Samuel Keller]: ****Thanks...man I'm actually tearing up a little. I know my fans will be disappointed since they've fallen in love with this story, but I think it would be a greater disservice to continue on a project I've lost so much passion for. This current story still has plans (slow ones, but plans) but I can't go on after this arc is wrapped up. However, I do have good news. Not all must die.**

**[Richard McGuinness]: ****What?**

**[Samuel Keller]: ****I'm planning on another story. This time, I have all the information from the Tales of the Borderlands is available to me, so I can write a proper "sequel" to Borderlands 2. I can plan a new story with new characters, despite how painfully hard that would be, but I need fan input.**

**[Scotty "Roundhouse" Dale]: ****On what?**

**[Samuel Keller]: ****Well...I don't want to get rid of everything. While the character kits of my 16 Vault Hunters were rather...lackluster...their personalities and characters were magnetic in a way. I need to know what "essence" of these characters you want back. I already know Wolfenstein and Saprus need to come back somehow, and I have a few others in my head, but I'd love fan input on which ones really won their hearts. I'd really appreciate a review detailing which characters you fell in love with for this sake, or a PM if you don't want to have your thoughts public. **

**[Richard McGuinness]: ****Anything else?**

**[Samuel Keller]: ****One more thing...I just want to say the last few years working on this story have been some of the best of my life. I've gotten so much support for this story from friends and fans alike, and while I feel bad for wanting to stop it after this arc, I hope they'll stand right behind me when I make my new story. I write my work for my audience alone, and I count myself blessed to have written for so many people. I ask only for your understanding in my decision, and hope to see you all again on my next work. Thank you all, and may luck shine upon you all. **


End file.
